


Time Heals Nothing

by DeepLittleSOB



Series: Lizzy-verse [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angels, Dean in Hell, Drinking to Cope, F/M, Family Loss, Grief/Mourning, Hunters & Hunting, Moving On, Requited Love, Reunions, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-16
Updated: 2015-03-17
Packaged: 2018-03-18 04:31:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 51,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3556118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeepLittleSOB/pseuds/DeepLittleSOB
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four months is a long time... especially if it's forty years.</p><p>With Dean in Hell life takes a dramatic change for everyone.  He asked Lizzy to move on and she tries her damnedest despite how absolutely impossible it feels.  Sam takes a dark path all in the name of vengeance.  Bobby does all he can to crawl back out of the bottle and return to the hunter extraordinaire that he is.  And Dean... Dean's just trying to hold on for dear life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. May 21st: What Now?

**Author's Note:**

> Fourth story in my series that covers the four months Dean spent in Hell. We'll see him in the pit in all forms of what he experienced, Sam dealing and his time with Ruby, Lizzy trying to have a normal life like Dean asked her to, and Bobby just trying to crawl out of his misery in order to function as a hunter again.
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I do not own or have the rights to anything of the Supernatural universe. I'm just playing in their sandbox.

**_May 21_ _st_ _, 2008_ **

* * *

"Sam, I really think you should stay," Lizzy pleads one last time while watching him pack up the Impala in front of her old Victorian house. He'd shown up just yesterday, late in the afternoon, to give her the absolutely crushing news. They're both shattered messes, having spent the night sitting quietly across from each other in her living room, downing whiskey like it was water and not really knowing what to say to the other. There weren't words to explain what they felt anyways. Lizzy knows full well that he's in no shape to be on his own, not yet and, honestly, neither was she.

"Can't," is all Sam answers back with. He really can't find the strength to stick around, as much as he knows he should. He needs to leave and be alone for a while to sort things out in his head and figure out what comes next for him. Plus, being around her reminds him so much of Dean that it honestly, physically hurts. Not just because of the relationship they had and the love they shared but because she literally reminds him of his brother. There was a reason they got along so well right off the bat. They were so similar it was eerie. The way she says certain things with a particular inflection, the music she plays, her smartass comments, even some of the little physical things she does, like raise her eyebrows just slightly when she has an idea or a certain emotion hits her. He can't handle a living, breathing, constant reminder around him like that.

"Damn it, Sam," Lizzy says with frustration, once again reminding him of Dean with the way she says it, and reaches out to grab his arm to stop him from preparing to leave. "I'm worried about you. Stay with me for a little while, get yourself together first. Let me help you…"

"Help me what?" Sam interrupts with irrational anger. "Help me get over it?"

"No! God, no!" Lizzy shouts, leaning away a little with surprise at his tone. "There's no getting over this.  _Ever_. I can say that with all confidence." She looks up at him with pleading eyes. "We're in the same boat here."

"Then how can you possibly help me?" he questions while shrugging his shoulder violently to get her hand off of him. She backs away, hurt deeply by his actions.

"Cope," she answers with her emotions taking hold. "I can help you deal with the pain without  _killing_  yourself. And… maybe you can… help me do the same." Her eyes gloss over as she admits just how bad it is. "I don't know how to do this either. I so don't know how to live with this, Sam. It's too awful. At least we can try and help each other, right? Please?"

Sam looks at the Impala quickly before turning back to her. He knows he should stay. It makes sense and she makes a good point. He needs her help and he wants to help her in return, God knows he does, but he doesn't know how he could when he can't even help himself right now. If he leaves now, it's going to get dark really fast and he knows it. But he can't stay. He just can't.

"Here," he says to her while reaching into the back seat and offering up one of Dean's prized possessions. "Hold on to this."

Lizzy reaches out and grasps the leather jacket Sam gives to her. Dean loved that oversized jacket, barely ever took it off. It went with him everywhere and it's seen as much as he had. She runs her fingers over the worn, brown colored hide with fondness. "Thank you," she whispers, touched with the generous offering. "Really Sam, I mean it."

Sam simply nods to her and begins walking to the driver's side of the car, opening the creaking door to get in. Lizzy runs around and heaves herself at him, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist. If he's going to leave, she has to at least say a proper goodbye. Without Dean by his side, Sam scares her. She's terrified of where he'll go and what he'll do by himself with all the time in the world to think and rethink about everything that's happened. She wonders with fear when she'll get the chance to see him again and what condition he'll be in if and when she does.

"At least say goodbye to me, Sam-I-Am," she asks of him, using her favorite nickname to appeal to his loving side that she knows is still buried deep in there. He wouldn't have driven for over a day to tell her in person that Dean was in hell if it wasn't.

Sam turns around and gives her a real hug, squeezing tighter than either had expected him to. He's completely torn with the decision to leave and Lizzy can tell. She hopes this is a good thing.

"I love you, you know that," she looks up at him. "We're family. You're my brother from a another mother, right?" Lizzy gives him a slight smile, working hard to guilt trip him into being safe and smart. Sam just nods once more in return. "Good. And for that reason I expect a phone call once a week to let me know you're still running around out there."

"You gonna kick my ass if I don't?" Sam asks stoically, remembering the deal she forced Dean into so long ago. He's shocked to this day that Dean avoided the beating of a lifetime somehow considering how he treated her for nearly a year.

"Better believe it," she says back. Lizzy reaches up and places her hand on his cheek while staring him down. "You be safe," she sternly demands. "I'm  _not_ losing anyone else. I won't and really, I can't."

"Ok," he responds, just trying to assuage her long enough to get on the road.

Lizzy pulls him down and gives him a sisterly kiss on the lips before releasing her grip on him and letting him go, as much as she really didn't want to.

"Bye, Lizzy," Sam quietly parts and gets into the car. He starts it up and, giving her one last look, he drives off for the nearest highway with a rock firmly planted in his gut.

"Bye," Lizzy says to herself, saddened terribly by his far-too-soon departure. She closes her eyes while wrapping her arms around the heavy coat she'd just been given. Standing in the driveway alone, she inhales deeply with her face buried in the leather and lets the scent wash over her. It's him. He's still completely in there; leather, fried food, sweat, Gun Grease, shaving cream, and just pure him. She treasures this little gift Sam so caringly bestows upon her. Looking down the road, Impala long gone, she whispers as if Sam could still hear her.

"Please, just don't leave me for good, Sammy."

* * *

"So, Dean, is the three-hundred and sixty fifth time the charm with you?"

He quickly jerks his head around to seek out the source of the menacing voice, suddenly finding himself whole again. One piece, one solid piece that is ripe again for more tearing, slashing, burning. His head drops back on the solid rack he's strapped to in absolute frustration. A whole year, one long, torturous, horrid year and it was still just the beginning. Eternity lies ahead. This is impossible, he thinks miserably to himself. Looking to his side Dean finds exactly who he was looking for. An evil snarl he's come to know entirely too well stares back at him.

"Go fuck yourself, Alistair," Dean spits back, refusing the offer once again.

"Aww, I see you're still standing tall… or lying tall. Brave little soldier, you," Alistair quips, turning the gleaming razor in his hand and stalking his prey, coming closer, slow step by slow step. With a simple flick of the wrist through the air, Dean can feel the searing burn start from deep within his gut. "Well, wouldn't that drill sergeant of a Daddy be proud."

"Shut your fucking mouth," Dean coughs out, the blood trickling down his chin as his organs begin liquefying.

"Temper temper," the demon shames while wagging his finger. "Johnny-boy  _would_  be pleased. You're still defiant and strong, just like he was, even a year in. Such an obedient little puppy, still following Daddy's orders post-mortem."

"Just because he escaped on your watch doesn't mean you should take it out on me," Dean winks boldly at the HBIC of hell. He's going to pay for that, he knows it. Even in the pit his mouth gets him in huge trouble.

"We'll see what a smart ass you are in a few more days… or months… or years. Happy first anniversary, sweetheart." At this Alistair laughs hardily as he drags his razor painstakingly down Dean's arm, the already damaged several times over soul screaming out with the utter agony.  "At last," Alistair begins singing, Dean's skin opening wider with each slice. "My love has come along."

"NO!" Dean cries out loud, the white hot, searing pain shooting up his arm.

"My lonely days… are over," the cruel voice continues, causing Dean to have chills at the same time as he breaks out in a sweat with the previously unimaginable anguish and he yells desperately, the sound falling on deaf ears.  "And life is like a song," Alistair whispers in his captive soul's ear, punctuating it with a grim chuckle. "It's only a matter of time, oh righteous one…"

* * *

Got to get booze. It's the one single thought running through Bobby's head. He needs to get drunk. His place went dry yesterday night and now he's desperate for another fix to drown out the constant ache.

He parks in front of the Mom n' Pop place downtown that he's been known to frequent. Bobby, much like every other hunter on Earth, uses alcohol and salt in the same quantity… fucking loads of it. Ok, he thinks, going to need to get a few bottles, enough to last through a solid week of depressive, abusive behavior. Better get more than a couple this time.

Pushing open the store's glass door, he hears the familiar jingle of the bells that alert the workers a customer has arrived. Bobby moves absent-mindedly through the aisles. He's been here so many times that he's on autopilot within its walls. Finding his shelf, he reaches down low as the stuff in plastic is usually kept at ground level. Reaching a hand out to his favorite shitty liquor, Bobby pauses. He reads the label of the bottle displayed next to it. It's Dean cheap bourbon of choice. Bobby's usually a scotch kind of guy, but today he makes an exception. He grabs four, no five bottles of his son's favorite and heads straight to the register.

"Hey there, Bobby," the cashier greets as Bobby plops the items on the counter.

"Dennis," he heavily responds, not making eye contact.

"The party with all the cool kids at your place this weekend?" Dennis questions with a grin.

"Somethin' like that," Bobby answers while taking out his wallet.

"Well, have fun then," the friendly man bids while looking over the purchase. "Hope you got some serious drinkers coming to help you out."

"How much?" Bobby impatiently asks. This small talk is killing him. It's wasting good drinking and forgetting time.

"Forty-eight fifteen," Dennis answers while bagging up the purchase, eyeing Bobby suspiciously.

"Here," Bobby drops an even fifty on the counter. "Thanks." He grabs the paper bag and strides swiftly out the door.

Once inside his car, he reaches into the shopping bag and pulls out a bottle. Cracking the cap off, he takes a couple big swigs while still in the parking lot. Wiping his lips on his sleeve, he replaces the cap and tosses it back into the passenger seat. He sighs loudly at his actions. He couldn't wait the five minute drive to start in on his road to drunk. Bobby sighs once while turning his keys in the ignition, ready to begin the process of more shit faced-grieving.

* * *

 


	2. June 11th: Drinking Isn't the Answer

**_June 11_ _th_ _, 2008_ **

* * *

Wasted doesn't even begin to describe Bobby's condition. Drinking for days straight now, he's the definition of misery. He's been to the liquor store a few more times since the first bourbon stock up and this last time Dennis looked at him with such pity it made Bobby want to run and hide. Might be time to start looking for a new store for his fix.

Sitting in his study on the cot underneath the window, he looks around the room at the scattered pages and books littering the floor and desk. Once it was all over, once he had to drag Dean's completely shredded body out of that suburban home, he had no desire to do anything but drink. It made life easier, dulling the loss to a semi-manageable place. And if he was drinking, he wasn't going to be coherent enough use that revolver in his desk drawer… at least not in the way he wants to while sober. All the research he'd done to save Dean's ass now lays strewn about, collecting dust as it silently taunts Bobby with its uselessness.

Those kids of his, it hurts to think of them now. One going through something his own nightmares couldn't even begin to imagine and the other… well, the other he isn't too sure about. Sam's been quiet and lonesome, preferring to keep to himself when he should be relying on the people that loved him. Lizzy called to let him know Sam had left her place. That was over two weeks ago now and since then the boy stopped answering his phone. Bobby knows he's alive; Sam would never get himself killed, not now. He had his brother in hell that needed saving to motivate him and he'd never let Dean down. It's the only thing barely holding Bobby together right now, the thought that Sam is at least alive out there.

All the times he's spent with those boys, especially when they were younger, keep coming to mind as he sits alone in his quiet house. The one that pushes its way through the most is the first weekend they were dumped on him. John had a lead on Yellow Eyes that he needed to check out and couldn't bring his two kids with him. At the time, Dean was seven years old, Sam just barely three, and Bobby had only spent a collective hour or two with them before then. They showed up on his doorstep midday and his world absolutely changed. John hustled off, telling Dean to look after Sammy as usual, and as usual Dean responded with a resounding 'yes sir'. Then poof, John was gone and he was left with the two wide-eyed kids he knew not much about.

For the first hour the two young boys sat quietly in his living room, Sam clutching to one of his little green army men, fiddling with it absentmindedly while engrossed in the cartoon Dean had chosen for him and Dean was continually moving his focus around the room; first he'd check his brother, then he'd leer questioningly at Bobby, and finally he'd look at the TV screen briefly before repeating. Bobby had never seen such a skittish, careful thing at such an early age.

"You boys hungry?" Bobby finally asked, trying to break the ice and hopefully get Dean to ease up, though honestly he was just as nervous as the kid was. He'd never been around children before then. He didn't know how to talk to them, what to do with them. The whole situation was highly awkward.

Sam stayed quiet, knitting his brow together and looking over at Dean to answer for them both.

"Are you?" Dean asked Sam, getting the shy boy to nod his head to indicate that he was. Dean turned his head to Bobby, floppy blonde hair that was screaming for a haircut moving into his eyes as he did. "We could eat," he replies with a shrug. A simple statement really, but it was said in such a way that if Bobby hadn't been looking right at the child, he would have thought it was a much older person saying it.

"How you feel 'bout macaroni and cheese?" Bobby asked them, remembering he had a blue box of the stuff in the way back of one of his cupboards for the days when he didn't feel much like cooking. Seemed like a good try. Kids loved that crap, right? As confirmation, he watches as their eyes light up with the suggestion.

"Yeah!" Sam said with pure glee, the first time he'd used his voice since arriving.

"Well alright," Bobby said with a laugh while getting up. "You two sit tight and I'll get cookin'."

The boys ate in silence once their meal was ready. By the way Dean shoveled the pasta into his mouth, Bobby thinks they probably skipped breakfast that morning.

"Slow down, Dean. I don't feel much like doin' the Heimlich maneuver today," Bobby remembers asking of him, surprising himself with his unexpected authoritative tone, and he received an annoyed look in return. It was then that Sam let out a big yawn, mouth full of chewed macaroni on full display.

"Lookin' tired there, kiddo," Bobby mentioned.

"He usually takes a nap by now," Dean informed Bobby without looking up. He was too busy concentrating on scooping the last heaping spoonful of macaroni into his mouth without dropping a single noodle.

"Well, he still can," Bobby said. "Got a room upstairs with a nice comfy bed."

Dean thought for a second, glanced once at Bobby and then back at his tired little brother. "Ok," Dean agreed, jumping down from the kitchen chair and helping Sam off of his. "Let's go, dude."

Bobby led the way, the two kids following hand-in-hand, showing them the upstairs floor. He points out where the bathroom was and the room they'd be sharing. Dean helped Sam up onto the bed that was too high for him to climb onto by himself. Sam got under the covers and stopped to place his little army man on the nightstand, positioning him so that his gun was aimed at the door, before Dean tucked him in.

"Want me to stick around, Sammy?" he asked and Sam nodded his head yes. Dean jumped up onto the bed. He sat propped up with his back to the headboard and hands lounging behind his head. Briefly he looked over to Bobby who was leaning against the doorframe observing. He smiled with tight lips at the older man as he sat quietly, waiting for Sam to be sufficiently asleep. It was interesting to say the least to watch these two little guys, their personalities so clearly coming through already and their relationship with each other so very apparent. Sam, the wide-eyed, quiet, very observant, and quite shy little brother and Dean, the wise beyond his years, to the point, and seriously protective older brother.

After a few minutes, it looked to Bobby like Sam was soundly sleeping.

"Hey, Dean," Bobby whispered. "Let's let him sleep." He nodded his head out the doorway to indicate that they should leave. Dean looked back one more time to Sam, barely visible under the thick comforter and long wavy hair, before he got up and followed Bobby out.

"So," Bobby began once they got back downstairs. He nudged his head to a seat at the kitchen table, which Dean climbed up onto. "What kinda things you inta' at the age of seven?" Bobby put two chocolate chip cookies on a napkin and placed them in front of the child at the table. Dean's little green eyes sparkled brightly at the sight of the sweets.

"Seven and a half," Dean corrected earnestly as he took a huge bite of a cookie.

"My mistake," Bobby apologized, placing the glass of milk he poured on the table.

Dean waved his hand through the air for Bobby to forget about the mistake and smiled as he ate, enjoying the treat that he never normally had. He hums quietly and contently while swinging his legs underneath his seat. Bobby suddenly got the sense that he was on the right track with this kid. The key to him was his stomach.

"What you hummin' over there?"

"Metallica," he stated so simply, as if every kid knew the band enough to hum it. He took a big gulp of milk and wiped the mustache off with his plaid flannel sleeve.

"Big fan of theirs?"

"Dude! They rule!" Dean grinned while he picked up the second cookie and Bobby let out a laugh.

"So besides rock out ta' Metallica, what do seven and a half year olds like ta' do these days?"

"I don't know," Dean answered while shrugging his shoulders.

"You don't know what ya' like to do?" Bobby questioned.

"Nope," the child answered back, chocolate smudges on his cheeks.

"How 'bout baseball?" Bobby tried. "You ever throw a ball around?"

"Nope," Dean repeated, crumb coated grin in place as he finished the last bite. Damn, that kid could eat.

"Well today is yer lucky day kiddo," Bobby explained while walking to the study and pulling out a couple old, well-worn leather gloves and a dirt streaked baseball from a drawer.

They spent an hour outside together, just the two of them, playing catch. Bobby listened as the small child told him about the few things he'd already seen in his short life. It was disturbing, but Dean talked about it like it was the most normal thing in the world. He also listened as he spoke about Sammy, clearly his best friend in the world and only ally in his broken and unusual life, and John, his hero, who he looked up to with fierce love and complete veneration.

Through it all, this kid was something else. He was funny and outgoing already, a regular kid who had his heart in the right place. Bobby fell in love with him that very day and anytime John needed a babysitter, Bobby was happy to agree. He never in a million years assumed he'd find himself wanting to look after a couple of snot nosed kids, but life is funny that way.

Bobby closes his eyes, the drunken sleepiness taking over as he remembers his adopted son with pure adoration. Thank God. Liquor is the only thing that can get him to sleep anymore.

* * *

Wasted doesn't even begin to describe Sam's condition. Drinking for days straight now, he's the definition of misery. Dean's absence is never felt more than when Sam's had a few too many. Usually by this level of shitfaced, his older brother is lovingly securing an arm around his sloppy frame and leading him to either a bathroom to puke or a place to lay down and sleep it off. It may have been rare that Sam drank this much, but when he did, Dean always knew how to handle him perfectly.

Lying atop the dingy motel comforter and watching the falling rain out the large picture window, he recalls the first time he got really, _really_  drunk in high school. His Dad had been gone for days on a hunt and for once, Sam had been at a school long enough to actually make some friends. Dean, being happy his brother had people to hang around beside him for once, told Sam to go have fun that Friday night, don't worry about curfew. And did he ever. It was the night he officially discovered that tequila is by no means his buddy.

It was late, really late. He remembers Dean saying it was around two-thirty in the morning when Sam decided to call for a ride back from the house party. Ready for the barrage of questions and insulting jabs over how bombed he'd gotten, the Impala came to a stop in front of him and he rolled his eyes. Sam tried to stand up from the curb outside his friend's house but when he did, his balance wavered and he leaned heavily to the right, stumbling a few steps before regaining his senses.

"Whoa, Sammy!" Dean called out while getting out of the car and rushing around to him. "Easy, man." Dean dropped an arm around his brother's shoulders, Sam being the much shorter of the two at the time, and pulled him in to steady his equilibrium.

"Got drrunk," Sam remembers slurring out.

"No shit, Sherlock," Dean responded to the obvious. "Come on, get in. Lay down in the back seat."

Dean helped him into the car, Sam plopping his body down across the very familiar leather seat, lying on his back facing the roof. Once the car set in motion, a wave a panic consumed him. He groaned with the sickness growing in his stomach over the movement of the car and draped his arm over his eyes.

"You gonna puke!" Dean yelled back to him with alarm, hearing his miserable sounds. "Dad just gave me this car, Sammy. If you need to toss your cookies, you let me know. I'll pull over, no problem."

"How much furrther?"

"Two minutes."

"I'll make it."

"Fucking better, dude," Dean laughed.

After the longest two minutes of his life, the Impala's engine cut out and Sam reached quickly for the door handle. He pushed it open just in time to empty the contents of his stomach onto the pavement of the motel parking lot. Gross, tequila was officially marked as gross in his book.

"Sswear I'm never… drrinking tequila again… everrr!" he declared in between heaves.

" _Sure_  you're not," Dean responded with obvious disbelief. He rubbed the inexperienced drinker's back as the sickness slowly subsided for just a moment. Once he was done, Sam wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and sighed. "Better?" Dean questioned.

"Not better enough," Sam responded, prying himself out of the back seat. Once again, Dean tucked him under his arm, just to make sure he didn't fall over on the short walk inside. He unlocked the door and Sam practically launched himself forward and onto the nearest bed.

"Uh-uh, Sammy," Dean warned. "That's my bed. You know it."

"Mmy bed," is all Sam slurred out while closing his eyes.

"Fine," Dean sighed while giving in. He disappeared into the bathroom for a few moments.

"Room… spinning… yuck," Sam managed out as the room begun to turn around him, making him ill all over again.

"That's what booze does, alchy," Dean said as he reemerged from the bathroom. "Makes everything a damn carnival ride if you're not careful. Sit up." Sam simply moaned his desire to not move. "Come on. Get up. Just for a minute then you can go back to being Sleeping Beauty."

Sam reluctantly followed orders. He sat up and took the large glass of water and Advil Dean offered and downed them quickly. He chugged the entire glass and fell back onto the pillows. It didn't take long before sleep began to take hold, but he clearly remembered feeling his boots being pried off his feet and a blanket being dropped over him. And he swore he heard Dean mutter, "Good for you, Sammy."

Dean never took advantage and made fun when he was wide open for insult and ribbing. Instead he took care of his dumb kid brother who was out being a dumb kid, a normal kid. That was the thing about Dean that Sam had always admired and looked up to the most. Not the harden exterior and not the strength and ability he had before Sam was big enough to match him. It was his love of his family, the unflinchingly protective nature he had for as long as Sam could remember. His brother did everything for him, from making sure his homework was done to trading his soul to save him. Dean devoted his life to raising Sam right and keeping him alive and as happy as he could be in their fucked up situation. Sure, Sam acted like he hated it, and many times he did, but now he just misses it. Dean could easily have decided he wanted to live his life and not worry so damn much about Sam, but that was never even a viable option in Dean's eyes. He was clearly a better man than most, better than Sam.

Sam closes his eyes, the drunken sleepiness taking over as he remembers his brother with absolute respect and love. Thank God. Liquor is the only thing that can get him to sleep anymore.

* * *

Wasted doesn't even begin to describe Lizzy's condition. Drinking for days straight now, she's the definition of misery. She hasn't left her grandmother's… no,  _her_ house in days. She's just been wandering around the large home, moving from room to room with a bottle in her hand at all times and her IPod blasting classic rock, usually Dean's favorites. Her poison of choice today was Lou's 'main man'. Jim, Jose, Johnny… none of those men were ever good enough for her. Even after being turned, she still had a thing for good old Jack Daniels. It's a shame that both Lou and Dean were bolder whiskey drinkers, though. She personally doesn't find bourbon or sour mash too appealing. Anything Irish is more her speed.

God damn, how has it only been twenty days? It feels like so much longer. Who ever said that time heals all wounds has never been proverbially stabbed in the heart quite as hard as she has. If anything, it's only gotten more difficult to manage. Just the idea of getting out of bed makes her want to kill herself, make it all stop. Dean always told her she was strong, strong enough to handle everything and anything that comes her way. His theory is really being put to the test right now and the only reason she's still breathing is because he asked her to.

So far today Lizzy has downed a quarter of a bottle of whiskey and it's only two in the afternoon. She knows she has to stop this, end this ridiculous cycle of strictly drinking and sleeping only when she could manage. She's lost weight in the last two weeks or so as she just isn't hungry anymore. If her brain would stop assaulting her by recalling her better times so damn much, maybe she could keep something down.

Each day has been a different barrage of memories. One day it's all the silly conversations she and Dean had, like the time they quoted their favorite one -liners from comedies for hours on end while driving in his Impala or when they had a lengthy debate over whether Van Halen was the best hairband ever or not (which they totally are). The next day it was Lou's turn. She recalled the time in high school that they got caught throwing a party while their parents went skiing together for the weekend. The two teenage girls decided to throw a killer kegger at Lizzy's. The only thing that gave them up when the weekend was over was the beer can ring on Lizzy's mother's nice coffee table they forgot to wipe clean. Her mother was always a stickler for details and spotted the flaw with ease. Their punishment was that they couldn't hang out together for a month. Worst damn month of her life… until now that is.

Today, however, was a Dean day. He was the first thing on her mind when she woke up and it was all her dreaming brain's fault. In the beautiful illusion she was lying in bed on her side facing him. Neither spoke or moved, just rested their heads comfortably on their pillows and looked at each other with smiles planted on their faces, so happy to be exactly where they were. It was calm and blissful, the best she's felt in forever. Then she blinked, closing her eyes and quickly reopening them, and reality set in. She awoke to an empty bed save for herself and immediately broke down in sobs as the awful loneliness consumed her all over again.

Her mind was ruthless today, evil like it hadn't ever been before. It kept bringing up their more intimate moments together, the ones no one could truly understand beside them, the ones in which they were totally open and vulnerable to the other. She could visualize the way Dean's eyes grew dark when lust took over and he knew exactly what he wanted from her, the way he licked his beautiful lips while watching her do any and everything to please him, and the way he intently watched her reactions with sheer wonder and satisfaction when he did the most delicious things to her. The scenes flash into her mind and ridicule her relentlessly.

Several more gulps of the strong tasting liquor and she settles into one corner of the living room couch, pulling her legs into her chest and resting her forehead on her knees. There was something about him from the second they met. Sure, just like every other chick that's ever had the good fortune of laying eyes on Dean Winchester, she wanted to straddle that gorgeous face the minute they'd met. But their connection went beyond just physical looks and she had the better fortune in that she got to have more than one night with him. She learned him, got to know what it was that made him buzz with utter enjoyment, what made him crazy with impatience, and what put him right over the edge. It's a shame she never got the chance to discover it all. They never had the time.

If heaven exists, which she's pretty sure it does now that she knows for a fact that hell's real, it would probably look a lot like the day she and Dean spent together holed up in a bedroom at Bobby's house. It was the most exciting, liberating, and pleasing day of her entire life. She wishes she could freeze time and replay that whole experience over and over again. The Led Zeppelin playing in the background as he took away the pain of the very recent hunt gone nearly wrong was such a wonderful moment. She'd almost died right in front of him, and at Sam's hand none-the-less, twenty-four hours earlier. It was awful. That next day Dean did all he could to show her he needed her, to take away the pain and replace it with pleasure, and fill her world with cherished devotion instead of nightmarish terror. And it worked beautifully.

She stirred for the first time that morning when she felt his fingers brush lightly against her neck, pushing aside her long hair to make way for his lips. He kissed her skin lightly and paused. She knew he was waiting to see if she's awake yet, so she opened her lids and smiled while turning over to face him.

"Good morning," Dean said to her brightly while looking her over, no doubt checking her injuries she received from her battle with the three Nixie the day before. As he studies her she in turn studies him. The sunlight coming in through the window illuminated his green iris in a way that melted her heart and got her emotions rolling.

"Hiya," she said back, smile slowly creeping across her face as he ran the pads of his fingers as lightly as possible over the dark bruising across her jaw. He picked up her right hand, still taped together for stabilization after breaking it, and turned it to inspect.

"How're you feeling?" Dean asked while bringing her palm up to his mouth and adoringly kissing it before letting her have it back. Before she could answer his question, he kisses her lips. It was sweet and honest and perfect, no ulterior motivations meant.

"Feeling good enough," she responded once Dean ended the kiss for her to speak.

"Good enough for what?" Dean slyly asked her, that mischievous glint in his eye as he did. He looked both boyish and absolutely delicious at the same time. Hell of a combination.

"For you to get over there and put on some Zeppelin," she smiled out, nudging her head toward the bureau.

"That I can do," he responded while getting out of the nice warm bed and walking over to the IPod dock atop the old furniture. She watched him move, letting her eyes enjoy the view. God damn he made a pair of boxer briefs look absolutely amazing. Screw those Calvin Cline models; they had nothing on her guy. "You got anything in particular you want?"

"Why don't you start at the beginning," she suggested, lingering on the curve of his perfectly sculpted ass. "We'll see how far we get."

"I dig your style," Dean grinned while selecting Led Zeppelin's self-titled album, their earliest.

"Think we'll make it through to Coda?" Lizzy questioned while hearing 'Good Times Bad Times' start playing. "I think we can make it through to Coda."

"God, let's hope so," Dean said while moving in her direction to dive back into the bed.

"Wait, wait, wait!" Lizzy held up her hand, stopping him from joining her just yet.

"What?" Dean questioned with impatience.

"This is a no pants party," she informed him, pulling her tank over her head and tossing it on the ground once she's topless.

"Good thing I'm not wearing any pants," Dean smirked as he was just wearing underwear, even though he clearly knew what she was asking for.

"Ok then, smart ass," Lizzy responded while working under the covers, "Consider it a slumber party for nudists then." She brings her arms above the blankets and slingshots her panties in his direction, hitting him square in the chest. She giggled hardily while her underwear dropped to the floor at his feet and Dean's wide smile grew even wider.

"You," he started while hooking his thumbs onto his waistband, "are awesome."

He quickly lost the only item of clothing he had left and happily got right back into bed with her, starting the marathon of a lifetime. It was playful at times, tender at others, and even a little wild here and there too. The day kept switching moods yet they were always on the same page throughout. She knew that experience had changed her. He was it for her; everything she'd always wanted but never knew she wanted before that moment.

She came out of that room hours later a new woman, still in one piece and head-over-heels in love.

Lizzy closes her eyes, the drunken sleepiness taking over as she remembers the love of her life with sheer, never-ending affection and devotion. Thank God. Liquor is the only thing that can get her to sleep anymore.

* * *

Pissed off doesn't begin to describe Dean's condition. Tortured for years straight now, he's the definition of misery. He isn't totally gripped with fear now after so much time in hell as now he knows what to expect. They start the day with Alistair's horrendous offer, then moves on to the carving when he refuses. It's been the same exhausting thing every God-forsaken day. Now, with the constant and mind-numbing repetition, he's grown absolutely infuriated.

"Here we are again, huh Dean?" Alistair asks, appearing by his side suddenly with his face just inches from Dean's. "Seems like it was just yesterday we talked like this. Oh that's right, it was." His lips curl with glee.

Today Dean decides he's going to keep quiet and not give the demon exactly what he wants; a reaction. His smart mouth already earned enough consequences to learn a little. He shakes with anger as he holds back his words and displays the most self-control he's ever been able to muster in his life.

"Playing the strong silent type today I see," Alistair comments calmly while bringing the point of his favorite knife just millimeters from one of Dean's eyes. He doesn't blink nor look away. He stands his ground, what little he has, and stares right back into the blackened eyes of his tormentor.

"Oh, a challenge. Mm, fun. I almost like it," Alistair growls while backing away. "I decided to up the ante today, my dearest Dean. I've taken a shining to you, you know."

Dean once again stays silent but his heart beats faster as Alistair talks. Why would he take an interest in him? What makes him so fucking different than the millions of other souls committed to damnation?

"Is today the day to get down from there? Stretch your legs, strut around a bit?"

"No," Dean answers quickly, not even letting the thought have a chance to run through his consciousness. It'd be dangerous to allow that.

"That's a shame, Dean. I could really use you."

"No!" Dean bellows even louder.

"Fine, party pooper," Alistair gives in. "Then instead, I want to introduce you to my friend... though I think you might have met before."

Dean watches as the guest of honor walks up to him, smile wide and eyes black as night. She doesn't look familiar to him but her confident stance makes him nervous.

"Hello, Dean," the female voice cheerfully greets. He'd know that inflection and tone anywhere.

"Meg," Dean nearly chokes out at his recognition.  Fear floods his heart the second he sees her.  He didn't know he could feel this kind of fright anymore.

"Oh, did I forget to mention," Alistair interrupts the reunion. "This is my favorite student. She's a near master of her craft, this one.  Taught her well."

"Aw, Ali. You're making a girl blush," Meg smiles before turning back to Dean, evil excitement in her dark eyes. "Oh, this is just too good. Dean fucking Winchester, in hell and at the mercy of those he's wronged!  Oh how I dreamed of a day like this."

Dean says nothing, once again pretending to be stoic and tough while actually being nearly paralyzed by fright.

"I just wish little ol' Sammy was here to see this." She raises her knife and twirls it expertly, grinning while the hell fire flickers across the reflective metal. "Oh, the fun we're gonna have!"

Dean closes his eyes, the blinding pain immediately taking over as he tries to remember why he made this deal in the first place. Sam. Thank God, he thinks. The thought of his few loved ones are the only thing that can keep him going anymore.

* * *

 


	3. June 30th: Baby Steps Forward and Back

**_June 30_ _th_ _, 2008_ **

* * *

Lizzy walks down the paved walkway around to the front of the bright blue and white trimmed house. She's meeting the landlord there to check out the second floor apartment that's for rent. She decided that the large house, though it's filled with wonderful memories of childhood and her parents and grandmother, isn't something she can handle at this point. She's not in a mental state that will allow her to keep up with mowing lawns or fixing pipes. Plus, the space just feels so huge with just her in it. It's a lonely feeling being there and if she was going to move on, she needed to move out first.

This is the first time she's left the house in days. She'd spent her time drinking, sleeping when she could, crying, and living in a haze of sadness for far too long now. She started to worry herself when she tried to remember the last time she showered or talked to a person, any person. This is not what Dean wanted for her, not what Lou would ever expect from her. That was her breaking point. The two people who meant the most to her, her soul mates, would be so disappointed and she couldn't stand the thought.

"Hi there! You must be Lizzy!" the older gentleman with white hair greets as she walks around the corner. He stands up from his seated place on the front steps and reaches out to shake her hand. "I'm Dave. I talked to you on the phone yesterday."

"Hi Dave," Lizzy quietly responds as she scans over the front of the building. It looks like any other old two story house in New England; weather worn and with details that newer houses just didn't have. It has a certain charm about it, Lizzy thinks.

"This place is a great little gem. It's unique and really quaint. One of my favorite properties," Dave explains while holding open the screened-in porch door for Lizzy to walk through.

"The pictures online were nice," Lizzy admits. She found the posting for the apartment online a couple days ago and loved the random features that it seemed to have, like the picture window in the living room and the built into the wall shelving in the bedroom. She was drawn in immediately.

"It's even better in person, trust me." Dave turns the key in the decorative front door with stained glass windows and lets her in. She walks into the foyer, a small room at the bottom of a hardwood staircase with a huge, carved wooden bannister. She feels at ease within its walls already as a warmth overcomes her.

"Go ahead up, I'll let you look around and if you have any questions you just ask," Dave smiles to her.

"Thanks," Lizzy says as she begins climbing the stairs to check the place out. The large, open, hardwood floored hallway connects to every room. At the top of the steps is a bathroom to the right with antique looking light fixtures and a brown tiled floor. To the left was the small kitchen. Not an eat-in but it has plenty of counter space. The bedroom and living room are on the opposite end of the hallway and as she makes her way, her boots dropping loudly on the wooden floor, she just feels so… comfortable. Like she's home. Unable to put her finger on it, she scans each room without really looking at them. She knows she's going to take the place already.

Once she's done looking around the bedroom, she goes to leave but pauses in the wood molded doorway while looking back down the hall. The thought of Dean pops up suddenly, without warning at all, and she's confused. It isn't like the million other times she thinks of him on a daily basis. This is stronger, like he's there somewhere in the apartment, like she was expecting to see him at the top of the stairs. It makes absolutely no sense why she would suddenly feel this way but she knows there's something here, something making this feeling happen and it makes her oddly hopeful. What the fuck is going on?

"So what do you think?" Dave questions while making his way up the stairs to check on her. "Great place huh? Has a nice feel to it I think."

"You could say that again," Lizzy mutters under her breath, still caught off guard by the flashing moment.

"What's that?"

"Nothing," Lizzy smiles back. "I love it. Um, heat's included, right?"

"Definitely."

"Then this place is kind of a bargain."

"Should I raise my rent then?" he grins over to her and Lizzy waves him off.

"No, no way. I'd love to live here," she tells him. "I'll take it if you'll have me."

* * *

Years. It's been years of monotonous torture. So many that he's lost count. And it's almost always the same. Alistair shows up, gives him the very tempting offer to end his own agony, he refuses with a few choice words attached, and then the awful, previously unimaginable pain begins. It very rarely ever changed. There were the few days that Meg was allowed to let out her hatred towards both he and his brother on him, though. That had been different and those days were among the worst, if any could actually garner the label as worse than others. They were all horrific in their own way.

Every great now and then, once the day was over and the carving and burning had stopped and it was just blackness for a far too brief time, Dean dreamed. How it was possible, he has no idea. He's just beyond grateful for the chance to see and experience something other than the same. Most of the time his dreams consisted of vicious revenge, of Alistair on the rack for once as he did his best to return the torment and suffering to the evil son of a bitch that loved to focus on him.

This time, however, might have been worse than anything any demon could do to him. This dream wasn't of torture and pain at all; it was of love and contentment instead. He dreamed he was still topside, driving while his beloved car roared ahead, AC/DC blasting loudly from its speakers with the windows down and the wind whipping around his face. He looks over to the passenger side and smiles as Lizzy grins wide and toothy back at him, the same smile he's come to adore over the time he's known her. Her long dark hair waves in the wind from the open windows as she sings loudly and completely off key along to 'Touch Too Much'. He reaches across the seat and grabs her hand, feeling the contact as if it were real. Peering into the rearview mirror he sees Sam, his Sammy, nose buried in his Dad's journal and concentrating hard. Sam lifts his head to lock eyes with his older brother, smiling as he does. God damn, he's never felt better in his life, Dean thinks as he looks back out the windshield. He breathes in the fresh air, taking in the scent of the countryside they're driving through, and relaxes back into the familiar leather seat.

"Dean," he hears Lizzy call to him and looks to his right. She smiles warmly back and blinks once, her bronze eyes just a second ago lit up with the sunlight, now turn quickly to black. She speaks to him, but it isn't her voice anymore.

"New day, Dean," he hears the voice of Alistair come out of Lizzy's mouth. He closed his eyes and reopens them. There he is, on the rack and in one piece. It was the worst feeling he's ever experienced, the biggest let down of his life. He's angry but not like before. He's furious when he sees the Grand Inquisitor standing before him, but he's even more sadden and worn down than mad.

"Same question."

"Shove it up your ass," Dean responds quietly, still destroyed by his dream's false sense of security and happiness.

"Aw, where's that fire you usually speak to me with?" Alistair questions.

"Fuck you," Dean sadly mutters before the day starts like any other, with impossible torment and pain.

* * *

"That's fucking insane," Sam quietly informs Ruby as he sits on the yellow flowered comforter covering the crappy motel bed. "I'm not doing that."

Ruby crosses her arms and stands over him, annoyed by his millionth refusal. "Sam, knock it off," she tells him. "You want to kill the bitch, you gotta be strong enough to do it."

"Then find another way to get me stronger, because there is no fucking way I am doing that." Sam runs a frustrated hand through his hair as his determination wavers. Is he really considering doing this?

"There is no  _other_  way," Ruby explains with annoyance. "This is it, buddy boy. You gotta do what I'm telling you to."

"Dean would hate me for this," he says sadly, more to himself than her.

"And Dean isn't here. Killing Lilith will make that damnation of his worth something."

Sam sighs loudly and bows his head. Dean would kill him, absolutely fucking murder him, for even considering this. Lou would too. He knows how wrong, how inhuman this plan is, but the need for revenge has always been one of the few things Sam couldn't resist. Getting justice for his mother, his father, and his Jessica's death was the sweetest moment he's experienced. Now he's got himself a new enemy in his crosshairs, the one that took away his only remaining blood family, and he can't rest until vengeance is his.

"I'll…" Sam stops mid-agreement when his phone rings. He closes his eyes in frustration and plunges his hand into his pocket. Looking at the lit up screen he isn't surprised in the least to see Lizzy's name. He hasn't talked to her since he left her house over a month ago. She's called him numerous times, always leaving a loving voicemail asking him to call and telling him he's not alone. He knows she deserves to hear from him, she's entitled to know he's ok, but now is most definitely not the time. He lets her call go to voicemail and pushes the guilt of ignoring her aside.

"You were saying?" Ruby asks expectantly. Sam looks over to one of the few allies he has left. A fucking demon. Granted she did save his ass from certain death. Clearly he feels he can trust her, but the nagging reservations never subside.

"I was saying… I'll do it." Hesitation coating his words, he agrees.

Ruby smiles down at him and places a hand to his cheek. "You won't regret this, Sam," she tells him while pulling a knife from her boot. "Especially not when you're watching the light fade from Lilith's eyes as she dies at your hands."

Sam smiles widely with the thought and watches as the demon cuts deeply into her own arm. The slice begins to bleed and she catches the blood in one of the glasses from the bathroom. It fills quickly and Sam gets jittery at the sight. Fuck, he's really going to do this. He's going to go down this dark, totally screwed up road. All for Dean and vengeance. At least he already knows it'll be completely worth it.

Ruby holds the cup out to him and grins. "Down the hatch."

* * *

Bobby jumps at the sound of a phone ringing. He'd passed out a few hours ago on the couch in the living room, drunk midday during his current binge. He rubs his eyes and recognizes the sound he hears immediately. It's his F.B.I. line.

"Damn it," Bobby grumbles as he works hard to pry himself off of the comfortable furniture he'd much rather stay lying on. He shuffles his tired feet across the linoleum floor of the kitchen and over to the wall of phones. He grabs the one still ringing and pulls it roughly to his ear.

"Federal Bureau of Investigation. This is…"

"Bobby!" Lizzy says quickly and Bobby can practically hear the smile on her face.

"Lizzy," he responds while washing a hand down his face, relieved that he doesn't actually have to work and vouch for someone at this time. "How're ya', hun?"

"I'm horrible. You?"

"Oh 'bout the same," Bobby tells her while holding up a nearly empty bottle of whiskey and pouring the last few gulps left into a nearby glass. He really needs to clean this place up soon.

"Sorry for clogging up one of your work lines, but I tried your cell a few times. You never answered. Figured this was the best way to get your attention."

"Yeah, ah," Bobby searches his pockets. "Sorry 'bout that. Not sure where my cell is right now." Being drunk most of the time really does a number on your memory, he thinks to himself.

"Oh, it's fine. I just needed to call for a few reasons, beside the fact that I haven't heard from you in a few days now." She made it a point to call him every other day. It kept her grounded hearing his voice, and it stopped her from taking some drastic actions to end the pain once and for all by reminding her that people still love her and need her out there somewhere.

"Yeah, it's been a rough couple a' days," Bobby says. He'd do just fine for a few days, looking for new hunts and going about his business as best he could. Then a wave of depression would hit and it'd be awful, sometimes for a week straight.

"Well, first thing is, I'm moving."

"What? Why?" Bobby questions her. "That house of yours is nice… and free."

"And huge, and lonely, and filled with memories," Lizzy pauses. "I need to get outta there if I'm ever gonna move on. And I promised I would."

"Ok, kid. I hear ya'." Bobby knows the sadness of a large sized and very empty house and understands her plight completely.

"So I'll text you the address just so you have it. And if you're bored and need a change of scenery, feel free to come help me pack and move… and sell a shit ton of old ass furniture."

"Lemme get back to ya' on that one," Bobby tells her. As much as it would be good for him to leave the confines of his house, he just didn't want to. Not right now. Not yet.

"Aw come on. It'll be fun. Some of this stuff is so old I could make a killing at Antiques Roadshow!"

"Oh, I'm sure it could," he brushes off her humor. He knows she's just doing her best to make things less heavy by joking… but it only reminds him of the way Dean used to do the same. Her attempt completely backfires.

"Well I hope you consider it. I really wouldn't mind the company if I'm being honest."

"You hear from Sam at all?" Bobby changes the subject.

Lizzy sighs heavily on the other end. "No. I called just a few minutes ago to tell him I'm moving. Here's a shocker; he didn't answer his phone."

"That God damned kid," Bobby grumbles while taking down a huge gulp of liquor.

"Bobby, what do we do about him?" Lizzy asks with desperation. "I worry all the fucking time. This isn't good."

"I know, but what the hell're we gonna do. The guy's an adult, can make his own decisions… no matter how stupid they are."

"I just… I can't…" Lizzy pauses. "I can't."

"Hell, neither can I, kiddo," Bobby responds, knowing exactly what Lizzy is trying to say. Neither of them will get through burying another loved one. There's no way they could.

"And I miss him," Lizzy confesses. "Shit, it's like Dean all over again. Avoiding me and leaving me with a whole pile of what the fucks. I give him another week and I'm going GPS all over his ass."

"Can't," Bobby tells her. "Already tried. Changed phone companies. No idea which one he's with now or an account number. Hell, who even knows what fake name he gave them. Luckily he called you a long time ago and you were able to get his number when he did."

"How fucking considerate," she sarcastically says. "So what, we play the waiting game?"

"Yup," Bobby laments while downing the last of what's left in his glass. His place is dry again. Guess he's leaving the house today after all.

"I hate this. I hate all of this."

"You and I both, hon. You and I both."

* * *

 


	4. June 6th: Promises Made, Promises Kept

**_July 6_ _th_ _, 2008_ **

* * *

 

Her lids fly open with the sound of tumbling boxes from the first floor. She doesn't know what it is, but something is most definitely in her house and clearly knocking over her already packed items. A hunter's instincts don't just disappear, even when not practiced, and she can just feel that something is highly wrong.

Lizzy quietly moves off of her bed, bare feet standing on cold hardwood flooring. Reaching underneath the bedframe, she pulls out her Glock and takes painstakingly slow steps to the door. She doesn't want the creaky floorboards giving her away. She forgoes the idea of covering up, thinking that just underwear and a tank is enough. Lizzy knows how to kick ass naked if she has to. Whatever decided to invade her space like this is certainly not going to live to tell about it. Her heart beats faster, out of both fear and excitement. It's been a while since she's hunted something and she's elated for the opportunity to dole out some pain instead of feel it for once.

The door opens with a slight squeak and Lizzy pauses, holding her breath and waiting while hoping the mysterious thing in her house didn't hear. She listens as rustling comes from the kitchen and something bumps into the dinner table. The legs of the furniture scrape against the linoleum floor before a voice curses its own clumsy actions.

"Shit."

Ok, she thinks. It speaks English. Huh. Lizzy starts her trek down the hallway, handgun at the ready all the while. Leaning against the wall at the corner of the hall, she takes a deep breath and swiftly turns around to face the top of the stairs with her gun trained straight ahead. Nothing yet, still just her, but it's then that she hears the sloshing of liquid in a glass bottle followed by a disgusted sigh. Whatever it is, it's at the bottom of the stairs. Lizzy creeps forward the few feet it took to get a clear shot down to the first floor. She spies the hulking size of the man sitting on the first step, shoulders slumped and one of her Jack Daniels bottles by his side. She'd know that frame and dark shaggy hair anywhere.

"Sam!" she shouts with surprise.

He doesn't turn around, just raises a hand over his head to wave hello before taking down another good chug.

"Jesus fucking Christ, dude!" Lizzy yells at him as she leans forward, hands on her bent knees, and breaths deeply. "You scared the shit outta me, man! I was gonna shoot you!"

"Oops," Sam responds flatly while still remaining in his seat. She's pissed off at him for this, but clearly something is wrong if he's come to see her. Saving her huge growing anger for later, she makes her way down the staircase, still dressed in the bare minimum, and sits down next to Sam, dropping her gun on the step behind her since it isn't needed. She forgoes getting more clothes on. It's just Sam after all and he looks too drunk to leave alone even for the couple of minutes it would take to go back upstairs. She isn't fearful of him either. The guy had to walk through a salt line and a devil's trap to get in, plus she's made it a rule to put a little holy water in every bottle of booze she keeps in the house just in case (great idea, Bobby). And oh yeah, the anti-possession tattoo he has kind of proves it. He's clear and she feels safe enough to relax.

"What the hell brings you here?" she questions while grabbing the bottle and taking down a sip of whiskey for herself.

"I've been a bad... brother," Sam says while staring at the floor. Oh boy. His tone of voice and demeanor tells her this it... he's sloshed.

"What?" Lizzy wonders with confusion. "Sam, you've been out on the road looking to get Dean back this whole time, or at least I assume that's what you've been doing. Kinda been hard to reach you for a while now so who knows really."

"I've tried e'erything," he slurs out.  "Spells, séances, e'erything. Even tried to fucking take his place."

"Sam!" She snaps her head to stare at him in anger. She's ready to strangle him for what he's told her.

"No one'll bargain with me, don't worry."

"Fucking idiot," she says while punching him in the shoulder which she gets an annoyed look from him in return.

"I let him down. Dean always did everything to make sure I was safe and protected. He's saved me so many times and I can't do shit to help him the one time he needs it."

"It's not fair, Sam, but you've done what you could and Dean would be proud of you for that. Don't be so damn hard on yourself." Lizzy sighs loudly with everything the poor guy is going through. "Well, at least now I know you're still breathing."

"That's what I mean," Sam says once again to the floor.

"Mean about what?" Lizzy asks before taking another sip.

"About being a shitty brother," Sam states simply. "I've been awful to you, just like Dean was for a year. You don't deserve that. Been a bad brother from a another mother. M'sorry."

Lizzy huffs a laugh at the shocking reason he came by.

"That's why you're drunk and breaking into my place at two in the morning?"

"Kinda," Sam admits while taking back the glass bottle and going in for one more long pull.

"Hell, I'll take what I can get, Sam-I-Am," Lizzy tells him while leaning into him, her head resting on his sagging shoulder. It's so good to see him, to know he's still kicking that it doesn't matter the shape he's in at the moment.

"I've done some bad shit, Lizzy." It's put simply and he unnerves her with his words.

"What've you done?" Lizzy asks while lifting her head up. He doesn't answer, just keeps his gaze locked on the floor. She reaches out and brushes his too-long hair to the side so she gets a clear shot of his face. "What did you do?"

Sam finally looks over to her, locking eyes, and she sees the confused torment he holds inside. It hurts her to see it and she wishes she could wash it all away for him. She places a hand on his cheek and Sam closes his eyes, leaning into her palm.

"Sam, are you ok? I mean relatively speaking of course?"

He closes the space between them and brings his lips to hers. The movement was quick, and Lizzy certainly didn't see it coming at all. He blindsided her with his actions. Lizzy brings her other hand to his chest and very lightly pushes him back, ending his attempted kiss as gently as possible. Sam looks back down at his feet with what she's sure is embarrassment.

"Hey," she sooths, running a comforting hand up and down his arm, tying her best to make him feel less ashamed. "It's fine. Momentary lapse of judgment, right?"

"No," Sam answers. "Knew what I was doing."

"Oh," Lizzy responds, not sure what else to say.

"We've lost so fucking much," he explains. "We've lost our family, our friends, our…"

"Other halves?" Lizzy finishes for him.

"Yes," Sam agrees. "I just, I miss her. So fucking much."

"Me too," Lizzy says, knowing he's talking about Lou.

"They say you don't know what you've got 'til it's gone, right?" Sam looks over to her with tears threatening. "Well, she's gone and I just want her back. I didn't think it'd be this bad... but it is. It's so fucking bad."

"You're preaching to the choir my friend," Lizzy tries to lighten things up a bit, even though she knows it won't work. Sam rolls his eyes.

"Stop doing that that. You're just fucking like him," he says while shaking his head. "That's why I couldn't stay here, why I couldn't be around you."

"I shoulda known." She didn't know before why he'd left in such a hurry, but his reasoning makes total sense to her. She reminds him too much of Dean.

"But you're so much like Lou too," he explains. "I know I can talk to you, I know you'll listen. I should've called you."

"Yes, you should have," she concurs.

"I just want her back, I want her help so badly, I want what we had or at least could've had."

"But I'm not her, Sam. I can't replace that, you know this." Her heart breaks with his absolute sadness.

"I was just trying…"

"I know what you were trying," Lizzy smiles sadly. "Tempting as it may be, it's not gonna happen. It's too…"

"Creepy," Sam finishes.

"Pretty much," Lizzy smiles wider. "Listen, why don't you head upstairs and take the open room for the night. Then you can puke your brains out all morning and we'll talk once you're done."

"K," he responds while standing up and trudging up the stairs. He doesn't stop walking once he reaches the top, opening the nearest door and diving into the bed in it.

"Um, hey," Lizzy starts, ready to tell him he's in her bed and should take the one next door. She doesn't though. He's already plopped across the mattress, feet hanging off the end, and she doesn't have to heart to move him. He looks like he could use the sleep immediately. Instead she takes his boots off for him and then attempts to remove his coat.

"Thought you said it'd be creepy?" Sam mumbles with his head still on the pillow as she undresses him.

"No,  _you_  said it'd be creepy. You know you're kinda funny when you're drunk, smart ass," she responds while briefly smiling because every great now and then she sees Dean coming through in his little brother. She pries his coat off after some struggling. Before leaving him for the night, Lizzy tugs on the leather jacket Sam is partially laying on until she gets it free.

"Night Sam," Lizzy whispers and kisses him on the cheek. She leaves him be and heads to the master bedroom down the hall. She usually preferred the smaller room since she and Dean had shared it before… he left. Tucking herself into the larger bed, she wraps her arms around the worn coat that she slept with every night. It still smelled like him and it gave her comfort. After seeing Sam it made her miss Dean even more. It felt wrong to see one without the other.

"I miss you so much," she whispers into the jacket while closing her eyes.

* * *

His face shakes with not pain, but anger. It's been building over the years of torture, his rage becoming harder to deal with than the anguish. Today Alistair went for an old ruthless standby, one of his favorite ways of torment. Skinning a soul alive was always a joy for him and usually it was Dean's least favorite approach. With his bottled up fury, however, the skinning was easier to deal with than ever before. He was distracted.

"Awful quiet today, Dean," Alistair snarls while keeping at his work. "You've barely made a peep. You're taking out some of the fun for me, you know."

"I am gonna kill you," Dean shakily spits out. "Someday, I am going to get my revenge on you, you evil piece of fucking shit."

Alistair laughs sinfully with the absurd statement. "Please, Dean, I can't breathe," the demon says while doubled over. "When did you become so funny?" He continues laughing, taunting the bound soul mercilessly.

"Laugh now, Alistair," Dean calmly responds. "Laugh it up."

"You know, you're getting a little too bold for my liking. I think I need to bring you down a peg or two."

Dean keeps quiet, poker face of anger still in place, and waits for the demon's next move.

"I think I'll being my newest student in to finish this one up," he explains with a grin, wiping his razor clean. "He's really good, you know. Just down right vicious. I have a sneaking suspicion that you two will get along really, really well."

Alistair disappears with a blink of the eye and Dean is left, bleeding and waiting.

"Hey Dean," the deep voice says and Dean screws his eyes shut with it.

He knows who he'll see when he opens them, but for the life of him he wishes it wasn't true. This can't be real, he's not really here. Slowly he pries his lids open and sees exactly who he expected.

"Long time no see," the tall man says while wielding an intimidating knife.

"Sam," Dean whispers out. "No way, you're not here. You are  _not_  real."

"Very real, actually." Sam steps closer, black eyes staring him down as he does, until he is right by Dean's side. "You know, after you abandoned me, it was easy to just give in to all the evil in me. Didn't have big brother around to nag me to death and watch over me."

"No," Dean says again while looking away. Sam uses the point of the knife against Dean's cheek to turn Dean's head back around to him, green locking with black as night once he does.

"It's your fault you know," Sam says. "It was your job to look after me."

"That's why I'm here!" Dean shouts. "I kept you alive!"

"Just long enough to let me go dark-side, huh bro?" Sam smiles menacingly while raising the knife about Dean's chest. "It's kinda fun, honestly. Letting this side of me win, to stop fighting and trying so hard to be good when I'm not. I never was and deep down, you know that's true. You should have let me die, should have listened to what Dad told you." He drops the knife with force and plunges it into Dean's chest. Dean screams out in agony as he feels the blade slice through his body but he isn't sure which hurts more, the knife or the sight of his brother's current condition.

"Don't do this," he pleads. "Sam, no…"

"Dean, yes," he returns to him. "This is going to be fucking fun. After all those years of being so overbearing, treating me like a child, I'm gonna prove that I'm not that little kid you think I am." Sam twists the knife and smiles with glee as Dean screams once more.

"Ah! You're not Sam! Get away from me you bitch!"

Sam slowly pulls the knife from Dean chest, taking his time as he does.

"Jerk," Sam responds with a wink while continuing where Alistair left off.

The day consisted of his brother tearing him apart, telling him awful things, and successfully breaking him down that much more. Not soon enough, the blackness eventually took over for its usual few seconds of reprieve before he was whole once more.

"So, how was it?" Alistair asks once Dean opens his eyes.

"You're fucking dead," Dean says, eyes dark and anger toppling him. He struggles against his restraints, desperate to get to the demon and deal out some pain of his own. How dare he use his brother's image, his little brother's voice and thoughts against him.

"Relax, darling. You know you aren't going anywhere," Alistair laughs. "Unless, of course, today is the day?"

"NO!"

"Are you sure?" he questions. "This is still just the tip of the iceberg, my friend. I know what makes that damaged brain of yours tick, what will get to you the most. I know how to fuck with you in ways you'd never consider. I went easy on you this last time."

"Shove it up your fucking ass!" Dean shouts for the millionth time to Alistair, making sure his promise to Lizzy is still in tack. She told him to never let hell win and he'll be damned if he does.

"Alright, Dean. I see it's gonna take a lot more than I thought to wear you down. But you're  _really_ beginning to piss me off so why don't we pause for a few weeks so that I can take out my frustrations, shall we?"

* * *

The light of the new day warms his face as it shines through the window and Sam starts coming to. He feels little a sick but the illness is manageable. He's grown accustomed to hangovers these days, finding them easier to cope with the more he experiences them.

He tries to blink away the sleep before attempting to lift his head off the pillow. Shit, he thinks briefly when his sights fall on the nightstand next to the bed he's in. The antique lamp, the doily underneath it; he's at Lizzy's. The memory of the night comes back to him slowly. He drove out to Massachusetts, desperate and finally knowing he should go see her. Once he was there however, he found a bar instead of her house. It's been so long and he'd avoided her the whole time and now he wasn't ready to deal with the guilt. After a few hours of boozing, the liquid courage in his system falsely told him he was prepared. The next thing he knew, he was picking the lock on her front door and searching the kitchen for more liquor. God damn it.

It's then that his eyes focus and he sees the three pills and bottle of Gatorade waiting for him by the lamp. She's so caring, and he totally doesn't deserve it. She's understanding and forgiving and he recognizes how lucky he is to have that in his life. No matter how badly he treats her she'll always be there for him.

After downing the pills, Sam makes his way to the kitchen downstairs with his Gatorade in hand.

"Hey," Sam sheepishly greets as he walks into the room, Lizzy with her back to him at the counter, and takes a seat at the table.

"Morning," she smiles with a laugh over her shoulder. "Hungry?"

"Surprisingly, yes," Sam tells her, searching his memory for the last time he's been actually hungry.

She turns around, plate in hand, and puts it in front of him. "Here. Eat up."

Sam looks down at the sandwich, the food he's sure she made for herself, and smiles. "Sandwich for breakfast?"

"Ah, no," Lizzy laughs. "It's past noon, dude. This is lunch."

"Oh," Sam replies, surprised to hear how later he'd slept. "Well, thanks."

"You're welcome," Lizzy responds while starting to make a second sandwich. "So, breaking into people's houses now, are we?" She jokes, but it's a serious question at the same time.

"Sorry about that," Sam apologizes with a bite in his mouth before washing it down with more Gatorade. "I got here so late, I didn't want to wake you."

"Just give me a heart attack instead, right?" Lizzy asks over her shoulder and Sam doesn't answer. "Look, just saying, call me next time. And for what it's worth, I am really,  _really_  happy to see you."

"You too," Sam admits. He thinks that this must be what it's like to come home, to  _have_ a home, and a family waiting for you. It's kind of nice.

"So what brings you here?" Lizzy asks, second sandwich in hand, as she takes a seat next to him. "Anything I can help with?"

"Not really," Sam says with another bite.

"What is it then? I mean, you mentioned something last night," Lizzy looks over to him cautiously. He sighs, their conversation still foggy but he remembers almost telling her what he's been up to. "Said you did something bad."

"Eh, I was drunk," he explains while chickening out. He can't bring himself to tell her. Drinking demon blood would freak even her out and the shame it bring him is too much to bear. "Again, I'm sorry for the whole thing."

"Are you in trouble, Sam?" Lizzy questions, clearly getting a vibe from him that he's holding back.

"No, not at all," Sam explains untruthfully. "I've done some shitty things to you and Bobby. I was talking about that."

"Ok," Lizzy nods, accepting his explanation while biting into her sandwich.

"What's with the boxes?" Sam asks, changing the subject away from himself.

"Moving," Lizzy says through her bite. "Can't stay in such a huge place alone. Got an apartment across town. I'll give you the address."

"Shit, good thing I popped by before you moved."

"Ha, no kidding. Breaking in on an unsuspecting family coulda been even more awkward than me almost shooting you, or you kissing me." Lizzy smiles but it quickly fades as Sam shares a questioning face.

"You remember that?" Sam questions with alarm. He's always assumed she forgot the kiss they'd shared months ago.

"Yeah, of course I do, it just happened. And I wasn't the drunk one." She pushes him on the shoulder playfully but Sam remains confused.

"Yes you were. You were hammered. And you got me completely wasted too."

"Wait," Lizzy shakes her head. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"When you kissed me, like months ago right after Lou... You were drunk, I got drunk with you by the fireplace, and you kissed me."

Lizzy's eyes grow extremely wide with what Sam tells her. "We kissed that night?"

"Yeah, well you kissed me, really," Sam tells her, realizing now she clearly blacked out that night.

"Oh shit," Lizzy drops her head in her hands with her elbows on the table.

"What?" He remains highly confused.

"Sam,  _you_  full blown kissed  _me_  last night. This has happened twice?" She's alarmed at the revelation.

"I guess," Sam says, searching his brain for the memory he's lost. He almost always remembers everything when he's been drinking, always has. He must have been  _really_  drunk last night.

"Well, this is awesome," Lizzy jests. "And so fucking wrong."

"And uncomfortable," Sam adds.

"And seriously not good."

They sit quietly and let the information settle in as Sam watches Lizzy fiddle with the Hand of the Etruscans pendant on a silver chain, a nervous habit she picked up once she started wearing the thing twenty-four hours a day. What the fuck is wrong with him, Sam thinks. This is so wrong. Lizzy is Dean's girl, hell or no hell. What is he doing?

"So I say we chalk it up to two lonely, fucked up individuals being drunken idiots." Lizzy looks over to gage his response.

"I can go with that," Sam quickly agrees while holding his hand out to her. They shake on it.

"Ok then," Lizzy gets up and walks around the room, suddenly stifled by the moment. "So, I have an interview at four..." she starts.

"Interview?" Sam interrupts.

"Yes sir," she tells him while picking up her plate and wrapping her barely eaten sandwich in plastic wrap. "Need to do something with my life now that I'm currently not hunting besides wallow, drink, and be miserable. You know, at least pretend to be normal… like I promised…" she practically chokes out.

"I see," Sam smiles sadly, remembering Dean telling him he made her swear she'd attempt a common life. Sam respected that Dean would try to do this for her and he knew Lizzy would try in earnest, for him.

"It's just a bartending job, something to re-acclimate myself with the real world since I've kinda been out of it for so long. You're welcome to stick around as long as you like… or until Monday. I'm moving that day. Then you're more than welcome to stay at my new place."

"Thanks, Lizzy," Sam says to her and picks his sandwich back up. He'll be gone before then, he knows that. Ruby will make sure of it. He has some training to do anyways.

* * *

Knee deep in research, Bobby's enjoying his few days of not being a depressed mess. Granted he's just waiting for that next wave to hit, but for now he enjoys the rare break.

There's got to be something they've missed, a spell or a loophole… or  _something_. He has to pull that kid out of the pit, he  _has_  to. And not just for Dean's sake, but Sam's too. That kid has deteriorated into something scary since Dean's been gone. He isn't dealing with the loss at all. Bobby suspects he's using the pain to drive himself toward revenge instead and it breaks his heart. This solitary and harmful road is not what Dean would have wanted for him, not in the least.

He hears the ringing and thinks briefly about ignoring it completely, but once he realizes it's his cell that's going off, he practically sprints across the house to grab it from its place on the coffee table and flips it open. Holy shit, he thinks as his heart fills with optimism when he sees the name he hoped he would.

"Sam!" he practically shouts into the phone.

"Hey Bobby," he hears his son respond quietly.

"Where the hell've you been, boy?" Bobby asks angrily. He knows he should be nicer and not scare the guy who so easily disappeared for so long, but he can't hold himself back. He didn't need the added reason to be a worried, depressed mess.

"Everywhere, really," Sam tell him. "I'm at Lizzy's right now and she told me how pissed you are with me."

"Damn straight!" Bobby shouts. "Been worried sick 'bout yer dumb ass. Lizzy, too."

"I know and… I'm sorry. Bobby, I really am."

"Well at least yer alive, ya' idjit," Bobby says in a calmer voice. It is good to know the kid is still kicking.

"I've been hunting," he practically trips over his own words, blurting the information out.

"By yourself?" Bobby asks with alarm. He prays Sam isn't hunting Lilith, but knowing that kid it probably is.

"Kinda," Sam says.

"What's kinda mean?" Bobby questions with annoyance. He isn't working with Lizzy, so who the hell's been helping him.

"Look, I'm not gonna change what I've been up to. I'm just calling to let you know I'm alright." He knows the tone of voice Sam's using. It's the one he pulls out when he gets defensive and shuts down. Crap.

"Because Lizzy asked you to?" Why Sam needed to be told to call Bobby is beyond him. That kid should have wanted to keep tabs. And Bobby now knows something is up. Sam is up to no good and the rock in his stomach makes him know that he's right.

"Well, yeah," Sam admits.

"Well, Sam, when ya' feel like talkin' to me because you want to and because you actually care enough to ease an old man's mind once and a while, I'll be waitin' for the phone to ring again."

With that, Bobby hangs up. He's pissed. How could Sam be so secretive with him like that, so careless? He's got little left in this world and he's throwing it away for revenge. God damn that kid.

Once Bobby sits for a few minutes, he regrets the way he went about the conversation. It'll probably be months before he hears from Sam again. Why would he  _want_  to call Bobby after being talked to that way?

Shit, Bobby thinks as he lifts the glass of whiskey to his lips. He'd poured it absentmindedly when his conversation with Sam took a turn for the worse. The depression blankets him once more and he decides that research is done for now.

* * *

 


	5. July 27th: Smirnoff Ice is Gross

**_July 27_ _th_ _, 2008_ **

* * *

 

He squeezes his eyes shut and waits… and waits… and nothing happens. It's been the exact same for fucking years now. He already refused the daily, sickeningly tempting offer and this is where Alistair is supposed to get pissed and start carving. Dean shuts his eyes to avoid the horrific scene he knows is about to unfurl. This time though, the disaster never starts. Scared to do so, he slowly opens his eyes to see what is causing the hold up. His brain freezes, ceases to work momentarily, when he sees. His dad is standing in front of him, less than an inch separating their faces, black eyes boring into his. Not again, please not this again. As much as he's tried to play this one off as nothing, deep down it still hurt every time it's replayed.

"Hi son," John greets calmly.

"Alistair!" Dean shouts as loud as his voice will allow him to go. In a flash, the demon appears standing next to John, his arm draped around the legendary man's shoulder.

"Losing that creative edge, are we?" Dean asks Alistair with more confidence than he actually has. "I've seen this episode before. You're in reruns, dude. That's just lazy."

"No no no, Dean. This is Must See TV. You haven't watched this one, not yet," Alistair smirks and with a snap of his fingers, John is no longer tucked under his arm. He's on his own rack, strapped down straight across from, and in full view of, Dean. "And I am far from losing my creative edge, my friend. I still have plenty of storyline still floating around up here," he smiles while pointing his favorite razor at his own temple.

"Son of a bitch," Dean mutters as his fears begin to take over. He's about to watch the exact horror that his father actually went through for decades. The same torment he experienced because he couldn't accept Dean's death. He's going to have to witness everything his father, his very own flesh and blood dad felt and went through so that Dean could live. How does he hold out, stay on the rack, for this? The guilt he's already experienced on Earth was hard enough. This right now is practically impossible.

"Dean, please," John pleads to his son, his formerly black eyes returning to their usual color and his voice shaking with fear. "Son, don't let this happen to me. Not again."

Dean closes his eyes to avoid it all, but his lids are suddenly forced wide open by an unseen force.

"Nope, no easy way out of this one, kiddo. You're gonna watch this, all of this… unless, of course, you decide to jump off that rack there?" Alistair asks hopefully. "You want to get down, Dean? Save your father from revisiting his tour of duty in hell?"

"Please, Dean. Just say yes. You have to help me," John cries out, tears streaking his face. Dean pauses for a moment, confused by his father's words. After a quick contemplation, he actually smiles as John's pleas sink in and looks over to Alistair.

"Didn't I already answer you today, or is your mind going with your old age? Shove it up your ass, Alistair!" he defiantly says. He knows for a fact that his father would never ask him to give in, ever. He'd tell him to hold on, be strong, and never give in, not even to help himself. He also has a vague recollection of his father using those exact words and they now echo in his head. Don't give in son. Hang on. Come out the other end. Alistair is not on his A-game today and that makes Dean happy for the first time in more years than he can count.

"As you wish,  _Hot Shot_ ," the demon says while winking at him. The way he uses that nickname unnerves Dean. It makes him worry about what he knows and what else this demon will use against him. Shit.

* * *

"What'll it be, Joe?" Lizzy asks the now familiar face sitting on the other side of the bar and tapping his fingers on the bar top along to 'Got Me Floatin''. Bartending suited her quite well, come to find out. Her easy-to-talk-to nature paired with a really good push up bra helped haul in the tips, too. Hell, after just a few weeks she's even got regulars.

"The usual," Joe says, smiling while looking down her shirt.

"Hey, eyes up here scumbag," Lizzy says while smiling, ribbing her favorite over-tipper, and heading over to fill a rocks glass with ice.

"Then don't be parading those things around like that, Lizzy. I mean really, you didn't give me much of a fighting chance," Joe laughs while taking a seat. "So unfair."

"All the better to steal your hard earned money with, my dear," Lizzy giggles a little before pulling the Jameson bottle from the shelves and pouring a hefty amount of whiskey into the glass. Hey, he was a man after her own heart when it came to choice of drinks. She drops the glass onto a coaster in front of Joe. "Better day today than yesterday I hope?" she asks, starting the simple banter that always seems to ease her mind and help her pretend she was alright. When talking like this to people who don't know her story, she didn't have to keep Lou and Dean at the forefront of her brain. It made living easier and it gave her a break from crying and lamenting her crumbled life.

"A little," Joe tells her while taking sip. "The ex is actually letting me have the kids this weekend."

"Excellent!" Lizzy grins, happy for the man. "Though I guess I won't be seeing much of you for a few days then." She makes an exaggerated pouty face.

"My wallet is excited for that," Joe jokes. "Can't wait to see those kids. They're my whole fucking life, you know?"

"Not really," she says honestly.

"You will. Someday, you'll get it."

"Eh, we'll see about that," Lizzy comments, still not being able think about that kind of future for herself. "Holler if you need anything, Joe." She leaves him be to serve a few other waiting customers. The usuals where all over the map, from barflies to younger people to couples who left their kids with a babysitter for a night to themselves. Always someone new to talk to everyday. She enjoys the job and she finds herself smiling and actually meaning it every great now and then.

"What can I get ya?" Lizzy asks before really looking at the customer waiting for service.

"Lizzy!" the female voice calls with total surprise. Lizzy looks up and recognizes the face staring back immediately.

"Jenny!" Lizzy smiles brightly. "Oh my God!" She runs around the bar to greet her old high school friend properly, which for her is to barrel straight into the woman at full speed and hug her entirely too tightly. "It's been fucking years!"

"I know!" says Jenny, backing away enough to speak face to face again. "The last time I saw you was…" She stops there.

"Mom and Dad's funeral," Lizzy finishes for her, knowing Jenny didn't want to say it. She keeps her smile on her face. "Yeah, that was, like, six years ago now."

"I know," Jenny says. "That's far too long. What have you been up to? You practically disappeared after everything."

"Yeah, well," Lizzy starts to explain while walking back around the bar. She is still working after all. "Had a real hard time processing everything. I just really needed to leave and takes some time to figure out how to move past it all."

"I can understand that."

"Yeah. Being around here was just too tough for a very long time."

"Well I missed you while you were gone," Jenny says. "You  _and_  Lou. Is she back too! God, I'd love to see her again!"

Lizzy leans her elbows onto the bar top and does what she can to keep the internal sadness hidden. She knew if she stayed around the area she'd have to go through this conversation at least a few times since there were still familiar faces around. Still doesn't make it any easier though. "Uh, well, a few months back Lou and I got into a car accident. It was pretty bad. Really bad, honestly."

"Oh God," Jenny knits her forehead with what Lizzy tells her. "Is she…"

Lizzy simply shakes her head to confirm jenny's suspicions, unable to verbally answer. A crying bartender is no one's idea of a good time and this is supposed to be the place that gave her a break from all that.

"Oh, Lizzy," Jenny starts while bringing a hand to her mouth but doesn't know how to finish the sentence. They were in the same group of friends all through high school. Jenny knew just how close the two were and Lizzy watches as the pools begin collecting on the rims of her bottom eyelids.

"It's ok," Lizzy lies, trying to avoid the emotional display. Once Jenny starts she knows she'll follow. She attempts to change the subject while clearing her throat to will away the lump in it. "So what's new with you? I see something super sparkly practically blinding my vision." She nods at her old friend's hand and the gleaming diamond adorning it.

"Oh yeah…" Jenny starts as she looks away momentarily to gather herself, having taken the cue from Lizzy that now was not the time to cry. "Ah, big news. Remember Jim?"

"You're still together?" Lizzy asks with a hint excitement. They were high school sweethearts way back when. "That's excellent, Jenny. Congrats!"

"Oh yeah, we're planning a wedding and dealing with the fixer upper we just bought at the same time. That fucking house will be the end of us, though!"

"How so?" Lizzy asks, busing herself with emptying the clean glasses from the dishwasher.

"Uh, just problem after problem. We tear down one wall and then everything goes to shit. And I know we have rats or something because I can hear them in the walls, but no exterminators can find the damn things. The whole place is just weird."

"Huh," Lizzy says, her spidey senses tingling (as Dean would put it). "Hey, give me your number. I want to catch up with you, and soon." More like she wants to help her friend with a possible angry spirit problem.

They exchange numbers quickly and agree to call each other the next day. It would be so nice to have a friend, a person to talk to for once, and Lizzy hopes this wasn't an empty promise. She still needs help now and then concerning the loss of Lou and Jenny could be the person to give her that. Plus, she just missed Jenny anyways.

"Here, first one's on the house," Lizzy says while cracking and dropping a Smirnoff Ice bottle in front of Jenny.

"Gross, Liz," Jenny complains. "I'm not in high school anymore. I don't drink this shit now."

Lizzy just winks at her long lost friend before walking away to check on Joe.

* * *

"What the fuck're  _you_  doin' here?" Bobby asks downtrodden to the man standing on his front doorstep.

"Need your help," Rufus responds quickly while pushing past Bobby and letting himself into the house, pulling something from his back pocket wrapped in an old cloth as he does.

"Great," Bobby sarcastically laments, shutting the door and following his old acquaintance into his study. He wishes he hadn't drank so much today. He would probably be more useful if he wasn't so buzzed, but he just  _had_  to stumble upon those baseball gloves today. Fucking memories, they're going to kill him.

"Get that fireplace going?" Rufus asks as he opens the cloth, revealing the small wooden carved statue inside it.

"Sure, but you better start explainin' what the hell's goin' on here," Bobby tells him while walking over to the fireplace to toss some logs onto the grate.

"Cursed object," Rufus spills quickly. "Witch planted it on me, fucking bitch."

"Ja' kill her?" Bobby asks, reaching out to inspect the small statue.

"Bobbyyyy," Rufus draw out his name. "Of course I did! Not letting her get away with those kinda cheap ass shenanigans! Ah! Don't!" Rufus shouts at Bobby as he swats his hand away. "You touch it, you get cursed too."

"Too?"

"Yeah, too!" Rufus starts unfolding a piece of paper from his inside coat pocket and looks up at Bobby with annoyance. "Stop lookin' at me like that!"

"Losin' yer touch in your old age, huh?" Bobby jabs with a grin.

"Not losin' so much that I can't still kick your ass! Now make yourself useful and get me some vervain, lavender, and chicory root." Rufus reaches up high onto one of the shelves in the study to grab the gold bowl he needed, dropping it onto the large wooden desk.

"Which you want first, a fire or the herbs? Can't have both at once!" Bobby explains, highly agitated by Rufus' demeanor and demanding tone.

"Herbs. I'll do the fire," Rufus says while bending down to get the logs lit. "Move Bobby, only got so much time!"

"Fucking Christ," Bobby grumbles while heading into the kitchen, quickly lifting the false bottom to the utensil drawer to grab the needed ingredients. He runs back into the study and dumps them into the gold bowl on the desk. "How's that fire comin'?"

Rufus squeezes the bottle of lighter fluid in his hand and coats the small flames in the liquid, causing it to grow tremendously, flames stretching out past the confines of the brick.

"Good now," Rufus quips, while picking up the previously folded paper once more.

"Don't burn my damn house down," Bobby grumbles.

"Chill out, old timer," Rufus fires back before beginning to read from the page. "Terminus is vomica , solvo meus animus , attero vomica super meus caput capitis."

Rufus places the wooden idol into the bowl and uses a knife from his back pocket to slice into his palm, wincing with the pain as he does. Then he lets a few drops fall onto the statue, picks up the bowl and turns to the now roaring fire. "Fucking witches, man," he mumbles before dumping the contents into the flames, turning them a bright and glowing green briefly before petering out completely.

"Ok…" Bobby starts once everything was over. "So what was the curse?"

"Twenty-four hours before a real nasty, violent death."

"Oh, so nothin' too big or bad," Bobby comments with levity. "Well, it's been good seeing you and all, Rufus, but I've got some things to get to." He wants Rufus out. No need for the guy to see him in such a depressing state and he would like to keep drinking without being judged every sip.

"Like drink yourself into a stupor?" Rufus asks as he looks around the house for the first time since arriving. "Jesus, Bobby. There are more empty booze bottles here than in a dive bar's dumpster. Uh, and the cheap shit too. How do you drink this swill?"

"Like this," Bobby responds while taking a sip of the glass he'd been working on before his friend arrived. "Works just as well as the good shit."

"And tastes about a million times worse. What the hell's going on here, Bobby?"

"Been a rough coupla' months," Bobby says, downing the rest of his liquor and heading into the kitchen for more. Rufus follows close behind, growing more worried about his old friend as he does.

"Man, I know it hurts, hurts real bad, but this is no way to deal with your pain. I should know!"

"Should you?" Bobby challenges, as if Rufus couldn't understand, before realizing what he just said. If anyone understands the horrific loss of loved ones it's the hunter standing right in front of him. "Rufus, I'm sorry. I didn't…"

"Remember?" Rufus finishes with wide eyes, appalled at what the man in front of him just said. "How the fuck did you forget? I know that feeling of losing someone real well, so do you! Now instead of insulting me and being a general pain in my ass when I need your help, maybe you should sober the fuck up and do something productive!"

Rufus turns to head for the front door, fists balled up at his sides as he does, when Bobby attempts to stop him. He never meant to insult the man so badly; he just let his own misery get the best of him.

"Rufus, stop," Bobby says once he catches up and tries to stop him by grabbing his shoulder. Bad idea on Bobby's part as the anger Rufus had growing in him takes over. He turns quickly and punches him square in the mouth. Bobby bends over at the waist, holding his mouth as his lip begins to bleed.

"What the hell!" Bobby cries out with pain and anger.

"You need to get your shit together," Rufus darkly warns. "You're on a course that'll fucking kill you." Rufus pauses as he watches Bobby stand back up. "But what the fuck do I care, right? I wouldn't know what it's like to be in  _your_  shoes apparently."

Rufus tugs the door behind him with force, the sound echoing loudly before it grows quiet in the house once more. Bobby is left with his utter embarrassment, disappointment in himself, and sheer sadness. How pathetic. Thank God his boys couldn't see him now.

* * *

The cheap motel bed shakes violently as Sam slams into her from behind.  He tends to get a little… carnal, for lack of a better word when he first gets more demon blood pumping in his veins.  It always flooded his senses completely and during the times that he didn’t feel like fighting it so hard he let himself go with it.  This wouldn’t be the first time he’s lost control after getting juiced up, probably wouldn’t be the last either.  Luckily Ruby was always around when it happened and was always a willing participant for whatever reason.

He’s been doing this for about a month now, the shame of the path he chooses to take for vengeance never letting up for a second the entire time.  Guilt is a hell of a feeling but his desperate need for revenge for what happened, and is still happening, to Dean topples it completely.  It’s a slippery slope, he knows it, but the woman screaming his name in pleasure really helps make the descent much, much easier.

“Sam!” Ruby practically yells out.  She was a loud one in bed, having gotten them complaints at front desks a few times already though, at the moment, he could care less about her volume.  He hasn’t had this kind of fun with a woman since Lou, who just happened to be quite vocal herself.  She was also petite like Ruby, a perfect body that he could toss around with ease because of their size difference.  Alright, not the time to think of Lou.  Focus, Sam!

“Fuck me,” Ruby demands on all fours as he grabs onto her hips.  “Harder!”  She turns her head to the side and looks at him with absolute dark lust.  Fuck, it’s like a replay of what happened in Bobby’s living room so long ago.  Lou looked at him that same way while he had her bent over the couch arm.  Those memories still pop up now and then, bringing him back to the woman he’d completely taken for granted.  It hurt way too much.  Just to make it stop, he grasps Ruby’s hair firmly in his hand and pulls, forcing her to face away from him so that he can avoid that look.

“Uh, I love it when you play rough,” Ruby gasps out. 

“Shut up,” Sam tells her while closing his other hand over her mouth.  She’s talking too damn much for his liking.   Fortunately, Sam couldn’t care less about Ruby’s opinion of him, at least not when it comes to this part of who he is.  He closes his eyes and without the added element of her voice, he takes the opportunity to pretend its Lou he’s really with.  Wouldn’t be the first time he’s done this either.

It doesn’t take him much longer to finish with the dirty images of he and Lou’s all too brief and much too few encounters running through his mind.  The idea of banging a demon never really settled fully with him, but the over the top sex drive he goes through most of the times he fuels up makes it impossible not to go along with it.  And then every time it’s over, he feels wrong, unclean, and guilty as hell.  God, if Lizzy or Bobby ever knew what he was up to, they’d kill him.    

“Wow,” Ruby comments while rolling over and looking up at the tall frame still standing at the edge of the bed.  “You’re getting kinkier.  I like it.”  She winks.

Sam just glares with agitation at her and walks to the bathroom.  Taking a shower sounded like an excellent idea suddenly.

“Don’t be so damn enthusiastic, Sam.  You might give a girl a big head,” Ruby rolls her eyes.  Sam still doesn’t answer, just shuts the door to the bathroom and turns on the water to the shower.  As the steam fills the room he looks in the mirror and swears he doesn’t recognize the person looking back.  He should call Lizzy, talk to her, get some help from someone who honestly cares about him.  But how does he tell her this?  And no matter how much she tries, she can’t truly understand him or fully give him the help he needs.  She isn’t Lou.  It really isn’t the same talking to her instead.

Fuck, what the hell is he doing? 

* * *

 


	6. August 18th: The Righteous Man Breaks

**_August 18_ _th_ _, 2008_ **

* * *

 

She's depressed but at least she had a job to distract her. After having reacquainted themselves, Lizzy went over to check out her high school friend Jenny's new house. When Jenny and Jim were in the kitchen getting wine, Lizzy excused herself to the bathroom but instead did some investigating. EMF was spiking like crazy in the room they were currently renovating and she herself heard the scratching sounds in the walls that Jenny had mentioned. Without a doubt, there was an angry spirit in the place.

Lizzy did her research at the library the next day and found out that the original occupant of the house, Abigail Worthington, had died there. She lived in the house alone for thirty-seven years after her husband fought in World War II and never returned. Since it was built, there had never been any construction on the place until now. It seemed clear cut; Abigail was pissed off at the renovations Jenny and Jim were doing and was making it clear as day that she wasn't going to stand for it.

That's when things got tough. Abigail was buried on the property as per her will. The grave was in the woods at the back of the house but not deep enough in to keep the flames of a good old fashioned salt and burn out of sight. She had to tell them, explain the truth, and hope they didn't think she was a nut job afterwards.

"Hey, Jenny," Lizzy says when the front door opened. It's a little after midnight but when Lizzy claimed to be able to help out with her house issues, Jenny was more than happy to have her over after her bar shift ended.

"Lizzy, come on in," Jenny smiles and lets her friend in. They sit down in the living room and Lizzy prepares for the reaction she's sure will be bad.

"Where's Jim?"

"Working an overnight tonight. Took it for a buddy of his"

"Oh, good," Lizzy smiles.

"Good?" Jenny asks with confusion.

"Oh, it's nothing. Um, ok, so I did some research on your house," Lizzy starts. "After you told me about all the weird shit going on here, I thought it might help understand some things."

"Alright…" Jenny starts with a bewildered face.

"The original owner was Abigail Worthington. She died here in the house."

"Comforting to know," Jenny says sarcastically.

"Yeah, sorry about that," Lizzy apologizes for having to inform her of the detail. "She was also buried on the property out back in the woods."

"Still not comforting." Jenny is looking at Lizzy with suspicious eyes and Lizzy just nods. She remembers when she first started learning about the previously unknown horrors of the world. It isn't a very settling experience and disbelief was her first reaction too.

"There is a silver lining here though," Lizzy begins. "With the information I gathered, I know I can help you."

"Wait, Liz, you gotta hold on for a second here. I'm confused. What does a long dead chick in my backyard have anything to do with a rat problem?"

"You don't have a rat problem," Lizzy explains as she nervously plays with the powerful pendant hanging from her neck. "You have a, uh…. ghost problem."

"What?" Jenny drawls out, completely disbelieving.

"Seriously. The original owner is still around. And before you say anything, hear me out!"

Jenny just sits with a wide eyed expression and stays quiet, despite her slightly dropped jaw.

"Look, sometimes when spirits are attached to something, like a house for example, they get angry when you fuck with it. You and Jim are renovating the place and all your problems started when you knocked out that wall, right?"

"Right," Jenny tentatively agrees.

"Well, you're fucking with what this spirit is still attached to. Abigail is pissed. And she's being annoying to let you know how unhappy she is."

"That's ridiculous," Jenny says, trying to brush off the information Lizzy gives her and ignore the fact that it all makes complete sense. There's the disbelief.

"That's what I used to think, before I knew the truth."

"And why  _do_  you know the truth?" Jenny interrupts, needing some kind of explanation.

Lizzy pauses. "Stumbled upon it a while ago. Or, I should say, it stumbled upon me. Then I just kinda went with it, learned about what's out there and how to deal with it."

"Right," Jenny says while looking down at her hands with a pained look. Lizzy is getting the feeling that Jenny isn't coming around.

"Dude, I'm not crazy, ok? I know what you've been dealing with. You've heard the scratching but you've never found a culprit. Sometimes it gets cold in the room suddenly, like freezing cold, and for no apparent reason. Stuff goes missing or gets misplaced and you don't remember moving it. You sometimes feel like someone is watching when you're alone here. Want me to go on?" Lizzy stops after seeing the recognition in Jenny's eyes. She's got her now.

"No," Jenny responds. She stands up without another word and disappears into the kitchen for a few minute before returning with two glasses of whiskey. She hands one over to Lizzy before taking a seat once more. "So… ghosts are real."

"Very," Lizzy informs her and takes a sip of the liquor she'd just been given.

"And you know how to fight them?" Jenny herself takes a big swig and looks at Lizzy.

"More like I deal with them." No need to get into the fighting aspect right now. She's damaging her poor friend enough as it is.

"So… you're like a Venkman?"

"Kinda. No proton pack though," Lizzy laughs quietly and takes a sip of the liquor. Not a good time to joke but it eases Lizzy's nerves slightly. "I know you think I'm a little off my rocker here, but I can prove myself to you. I know how to get this thing to stop."

"How?" Jenny asks with hope.

"I'd rather save you the details if I can," Lizzy says, knowing that the idea of burning buried body on her property wouldn't help put Jenny's mind at ease. "I can go deal with this right now, get it all over with, but you have to promise me a couple things."

"Shoot," Jenny says while downing a huge gulp from her glass.

"Stay inside and don't look out back into the woods for the rest of the night. I will let you know when it's all done."

"Ok, I can do that."

"And… just please, trust me."

Jenny looks over at her old high school friend and contemplates for a few moments. "Sure. I trust you, Liz."

Three hours later and Lizzy's shovel finally hits rotting wood. It's been a long night out there by herself and it's first time she's had to do that much digging all on her own.

"Holy shit do I miss you right now, Louie," she mutters to herself. What she wouldn't give to have Lou back to help. A partner really did come in handy. The thought makes her wonder how Sam is doing as she brings the metal shovel over her head and slams it down full force to break the coffin. He's alone just like her now. He's probably had this thought before too. It's been a while since they'd talked and of all days she  _should_  call him today.

It was Dean's three month anniversary. Three months in hell. Sam can't be handling it well. How could he, honestly? She still worries about him every damn day, just like she agonizes over Dean's damnation and mourns Lou's untimely death.

She dumps the rock salt over the bones inside the coffin, followed by plenty of lighter fluid. How ironic. Dean asked her to live a normal life, be happy and average and stop hunting. Yet three months to the day since he was tossed into the pit, here she was torching a body and dispelling a ghost. She wonders if he'd be mad. On the one hand, she was helping a good friend and it was an easy, danger-free hunt. On the other hand, he asked her to stop and she hasn't. She also hasn't moved on, not at all.

Sure she tried to at least start to move past everything, several times actually, but at some point she always finds it impossible. The thought of life without him still didn't make any sense to Lizzy. Like she's said before, she believes in the idea of fate whole-heartedly. Certain things come to pass for certain reasons and she knows deep inside that she and Dean were one of those things. They were supposed to still be together, still have a purpose together, but hell must have had other plans.

Lizzy lights the matchbook in her hand and holds it out to let it properly start burning. She tosses it into the grave and the body lights up. Taking a seat on the ground while the flames grow more and more, she feels the sadness grow within her.

"Dean, I'm sorry," she says as if he could ever hear her. "I'm trying, I am. But it's so hard, so fucking impossible to be normal. Like I told you, I'm not normal. And I miss you  _so_  much." She sighs out heavily as her vision blurs. "Still haven't figured out how to let go of the idea that you're down there. God, I hope you're being a stubborn ass still. Don't let them win, don't ever. You can't."

She presses her palms into the soft ground in front of her, wishing there was a way to see him, get him back for just a second. The tears fall again and she's so tired. Tired of missing people, tired of being alone, tired of crying, and tired of trying to be something she isn't.

"Still love you too much to move on," she whispers quietly. "God, I'm terrified that I always will."

* * *

"It's the big three-zero today Dean," Alistair taunts as the new day begins. "Happy anniversary, muffin."

"Do I really have to say it again?" Dean spits out at the demon. Alistair just smiles in return. "Alright, I guess I do. Shove it up your ass, Alistair!"

"Aw, you're so mean to me Dean. And here I was ready to celebrate. Even got you a present."

Dean furrows his brow at the information. It unnerves him to hear what Alistair says. A present from this demon is never a good thing as he's found in the past.

"See, I got tired of waiting for you to join my team, so instead, I'm moving on to someone new. Someone with more potential."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"I'm over you, Dean baby. We're breaking up. A newbie arrived today and I've taken an even bigger shining to her than I have to you. Once I'm done with her, she's gonna be… brilliant."

His heart races. Who the hell is Alistair talking about?

"I think you two should be roommates. It'll be way more fun to torture her in front of you anyways. Way,  _way_  more fun."

"No," Dean whispers, his heart racing as he puts it all together. She couldn't be down here. Oh shit, what did she do?

"In fact, I think you'll  _love_  her, Dean." Alistair laughs loudly and snaps his fingers. The rack across from him appears out of thin air once again but this time, instead of John, it's Lizzy strapped onto it.

"What the fuck is going on? Where the hell am I?" Lizzy panics while looking around, completely frightened by her sudden surroundings. Her eyes dart around the room quickly until she finds Dean. Her eyes grow wide with the recognition. "Dean! What the f… Oh, shit!" He panics when the realization makes itself known on her face.

"You son of a bitch!" Dean shouts out to Alistair. "Don't you touch her!" He struggles against his restraints, much like several times before, out of sheer instinct and, much like several times before, he isn't getting out.

"Easy there, Hot Shot," Alistair taunts back, emphasizing the use of Lizzy's nickname for him. "This dumb little whore of yours made a deal topside and when her time was up, well, let's just say her elevator ride took her to the basement level. She's mine now and there isn't a damn thing you can do about it, unless of course…"

"No!" Dean shouts, refusing once more to get down out of habit.

"Then I guess the fun begins," the black-eyed demon snarls while grasping his favorite razor and heading Lizzy's way.

"No! No! Dean!" Lizzy screams out as Alistair drags his razor along the skin over her ribs, leaving an open, vicious, and bleeding line in its wake. "Dean, please, I was just trying to save you! I love you! No!" Her eyes shift to Alistair briefly, horror painted across her face with the sight of him, before looking back to Dean once more.

"Just hang on, L. Be strong," Dean tries to encourage her, for what reason he doesn't know. If she's really down here with him, if she really made that deal, this is a completely unbearable eternity for him now. If this was now his every day, he isn't going to make it through. Alistair found it finally. His breaking point.

"Don't let this happen to me, please! Ah!" The demon filets a long line of skin off of her side and she screams out in the burning pain.

"I've got sunshine…" Alistair sings. "On a cloudy day."

Her tears begin to fall and Dean's heart absolutely shatters as Alistair continues his work, ripping into her without abandon.

"Oh God, no," Lizzy cries, tears falling fast now and face twisted with the utter agony as Alistair is relentless.

"When it's cold outside, I've got the month of May."

He can't watch this, can't allow this to happen. He can't let her be down here like this. She deserves better, she  _is_ better, and hell is not where her soul belongs.

"I guess you'd say," the demon continues, flesh dropping away as he skins her alive, Lizzy's tormented screams filling Dean's ears. "What can make me feel this way? My girl."

"Ok!" Dean shouts out, overcome with absolute fear for her safety.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Alistair asks while pausing mid-slice, half of his razor still buried within Lizzy. "I couldn't hear you over the screams of agony your little slut is making. What was that?"

"I'll do it, I'll get down," Dean agrees as the tears of his own trail down his face. "Just let her go, get her outta hell, and I'll do whatever you want. Please, please leave her alone."

Alistair closes his eyes and smiles wider than Dean's ever seen him do.

"And so it is written," the elated monster growls and with another snap of his fingers Lizzy is gone and Dean is standing free, no longer tied to the same rack he's been on for thirty years straight. It feels good to be out and Dean allows himself the very quick moment to enjoy the sensation before he's left wondering what happened to her.

"Where is she?" he asks with fire. "You better have held up your end, you asshole."

"Ah, my friend, my student," Alistair drops his arm around Dean's shoulders. "She's back right where she belongs. Roaming the Earth and living free."

Dean nods without a word as he sighs out in relief. As long as she's safe he'll survive whatever comes his way. It's now that he hopes that everything he just witnessed was real, that his agreement to get down was not for nothing.

"You know Dean, I've been waiting for this moment for far, far too long. Oh, I've got goose bumps just thinking about it." The demon reaches down for Dean's hand and wraps his new pupil's fingers around the handle of his beloved razor. "We've got some serious work to do, grasshopper."

* * *

"The damn thing changed its MO?" Bobby questions the man on the phone with him. "What the hell, Don?"

"Asking you the same thing! That's why I called," explains Don. They'd been hunting acquaintance for a long time now, using each other for information and help quite often. It was Bobby's turn to help Don as the hunter is highly stumped by a current case. "First the ghost kills students by shooting them, and without bullets mind you. Suddenly it now kills by slicing wrists. How does a fucking spirit changes its pattern like that?"

"Huh," Bobby wonders out loud as he remembers something Sam and Dean went through years ago that sounds a lot like this.

"Huh, what?" Don asks impatiently on the other line. "Three people are dead. The campus is freaking out. I need to figure this out and fast!"

"There been any stories going around 'bout this?" Bobby questions. "Articles or local legends being brought up?"

"Someone put the story in the school's newspaper," Don tells him as Bobby hears rustling paper in the background. "Wrote about the guy who died in the admin building fifty years ago. Said there are two stories behind what happened to him. Legend goes that the guy killed himself when his wife caught him cheating. One version says he did it by shooting himself in the head. The other story, the lesser known version, or lesser known until now at least, is that, more likely, he slit his wrists."

"You idjit," Bobby tells him once it's clear. "It's a fucking Tulpa."

"A Tulpa?" he man questions disbelieving. "Those things are real?"

"Yeah they're real. The Winchester boys ran across one a while back."

"Then what do I do about it?"

"Get another story published in the paper I guess," Bobby explains. "One that says what the ghost is scared of or can be stopped with. Once people read it, they'll believe it and you can kill that thing."

"How do I go about getting a story printed in a newspaper?"

"I don't know. That's your job!" Bobby's annoyed. "And be careful, Don. Tulpas only come to bein' if someone wants 'em to. Somebody's stirrin' the pot at that school."

"Sound's great," Don caustically responds. "Well, thanks Bobby. Couldn't have figured it out myself."

"Eh, thank Sam if you ever run into him. He's the one who figured it out once before," Bobby explains. "Good luck."

"Thanks. Might need it," Don says before hanging up.

Bobby smiles to himself while he puts down his phone and picks up his glass. Three months later and  _both_  his boys are still helping people out. The legend lives on and it's oddly comforting on a day when he should be a wreck. It still destroys him that Dean is stuck where he is, but at least the good he did while on Earth is still being put to use. He's still saving people.

* * *

"Hi Sam," he hears Lizzy greet when she answers her phone. Her voice is shaky and he already regrets calling her today.

"Hey Lizzy," Sam responds but doesn't say anything else. He's at a loss. He felt compelled to call her and he just couldn't shake the feeling that she needed to hear from him.

"I'm so happy to hear from you," she tells him while sniffling. "Today sucks ass."

"Yeah, I know," Sam agrees. Three months gone and the pain and loss has never once let up. He woke up with Dean on his mind and went to sleep the same, if he could get to sleep at all that is. Most days were like this, his brother always in the forefront of his thoughts, but once a month it was so much worse. Crushing really. It is a cruel reminder of how he can't save his brother. He needed help.

"How are you doing?" she asks.

"As well as can be expected. How's the normal life?"

"Normal, ha," Lizzy sighs. "I just finished salting and burning the bones of an angry spirit in a friend's backyard."

"Well, normal  _is_  relative," Sam tells her. "I mean not being on the road, having a real job, all that shit."

"It's alright I guess," she explains. "Boring really. I feel weird, like I'm trying to be someone else. Now I kinda regret that promise I made."

"Well, I know Dean would be really proud of you for trying," Sam says. "He just wanted you to be safe and happy."

"Safe, that's the easy part," she sadly proclaims. "Happy… that's…"

"Fucking impossible?"

"Exactly."

"Look, I'm calling because you were right," Sam begins to explain why he called. "It's been dark, Lizzy. Really fucking dark and I don't know what I'm doing. I don't have Dean or Lou and I need…"

"Then come home," Lizzy asks of him in a calming voice. "You can stay with me or Bobby, at least for a little while. We love you and want you back, you know that."

"I do, but I can't. There are things I have to do…"

"What things are ever more important than family?"

Sam stops for a moment. She told him to talk to her whenever he needed to but how much does he tell her?

"Revenge," he states simply.

"What?" Lizzy asks.

"I shouldn't even be telling you this," Sam says. "Just please, Lizzy, hear me out."

"You're going after her still, aren't you?" Lizzy's fear is clearly present in her tone. "You're gunning for Lilith?"

"It's just something I  _have_  to do. I can't live knowing that bitch is out there. I've been looking for ways to kill her…" Sam pauses. "And I think I found one." The line is quiet while Lizzy waits for an answer. Sam doesn't give one.

"Ok, I'll bite. How can you gank her?" From Dean's mouth straight to hers. She's got to stop doing that.

"It doesn't matter. I'm not getting you involved if I don't have to. The less you know the better."

"Oh, come on! This is bullshit, Sam!"

"No," Sam continues to refuse. "For Dean's sake, I'm not saying. He wanted you out of the game and I am respecting that." Sam stands his ground.

"So I either get your half-truths that I'm not allowed to question, or I get nothing at all like I have in the past few months?"

"Pretty much," Sam says quickly.

"You fucking suck, you know that?"

"Yeah, I know." Sam smiles as he can already tell she's not going to cut him out. She's still going to listen to him and do whatever she can to help him, he knows it. That's what family's for after all, right?

"Fine you stubborn ass. Fucking Winchesters," Lizzy complains. "You know how much easier life would've been without you two douche bags interfering?"

"You wouldn't be the first person to say something like that." Not by a long shot, he thinks.

"I bet I won't be the last. Alright, I'll take what I can get from you, Sam. I'll help whenever you need it but you better not do anything stupid."

Too late, Sam thinks to himself. "Thank you, Lizzy."

"No problem," she sarcastically responds. "You're just lucky I love you so damn much."

"You too," Sam tells her, taking comfort in her statement.

"So you wanted to talk, now let's talk… start spilling, bitch."

* * *

 


	7. August 22nd: Let Me Take You Home Tonight

**_August 22_ _nd_ _, 2008_ **

* * *

 

He's already picked up the phone to dial three times now, chickening out every single attempt. Bobby's always been the one to help others, Old Faithful as Dean once referred to him as. He gets people out of binds with the authorities, figures out how to kill the latest monsters anyone comes across, and, most importantly, he keeps every one of his kids in line. There have been many times in the past that he's solved Sam and Dean's issues for them, either in person or over the phone. And those two always had issues, big ones. They were just so different from each other that it was rare that they ever saw eye to eye completely. But Bobby always knew what to say to get them to a good, cooperative place and put them back on track. Same with Lizzy and Lou, but they didn't fight nearly as much. Fixing their issues was usually as easy as determining which one had correctly guessed the monster of the week.

But now… well, now he doesn't even hear from Sam, and both Lou and Dean are gone. He only has contact with Lizzy. Honestly he can't fix a damn thing for anyone right now with the state he's in so maybe it's a good thing he isn't being depended on as much anymore. It's a sad and helpless place to be, one Bobby never imagined finding himself in.

Sam hasn't called him in almost two months. That stupid kid is on a dangerous path. He's all alone and aside from Lizzy, he doesn't talk to anyone. For some reason, Sam's kept in somewhat touch with her, calling about once every two or three weeks. Bobby's just glad Lizzy cares enough to inform him every time she hears from Sam. Otherwise he'd have no idea what was going on with him. He blames himself for that, having been mean and spiteful the last time they talked. Hell, if he were Sam, he wouldn't want to talk to him either.

Lizzy has become the only bright spot he has left and she's miles and miles away. She still calls every other day, to gauge his emotional status and find out if he's been drinking too much. Of course he usually has and she then always threatens to come out and stay with him for a few days to make sure he's ok before he flat out denies her. It's sweet and overbearing, but she cares and it's the one thing he currently takes amenity in. She's really put herself into a matriarchal position and she fills it with grace and strength. She's a great kid. He wants her to have that normal life she swore to have as much as anyone does, as much as Dean did. She deserves it and seeing her at least try gives him a sense of pride in her. He's grateful that she's been strong enough to stay away and give the whole regular life a chance. And he's proud that she's kept her word with fierce conviction. He gets the feeling she's only partially ok with it so far, but if she sticks with it, maybe she'll be the first hunter he's ever known to actually get out. Wouldn't that be nice?

Bobby takes another swig of cheap liquor and realizes now just how desperately he needs help. He can't ask Lizzy, no matter how much he knows he should. She worries too much and he doesn't want her to know this side of him, the drunken, awful side of him; the side that reminds him of his father. He could never put that kind of burden on any of the people he considers family. He swore to himself he never would do that to his loved ones as he knows what a heavy weight it is from experience.

So now he has one option left. One person who can hear him out and understand… that is, of course, if this one person isn't completely pissed off at him still. They didn't part on the best of terms last time they saw each other, and that was completely Bobby's fault. He said some stupid things and was too busy wallowing in his own depression to see how rude he was being to one of the few allies he had left.

Bobby takes a deep breath and picks up his cell phone again. After he's found the name he wants to dial, he presses send and holds it to his ear. The line rings and he waits with anxiety on high, taking the time to gulp down another mouthful of whiskey.

"What do you want?" the rough voice asks on the other end when it's picked up. Bobby isn't sure what to say and he hesitates. "Bobby? I know it's you, man. What the hell do you want?"

"Rufus…" Bobby begins, dropping the glass in his hand onto the desk he's sitting at and sighing loudly as he leans his forehead into the palm of his hand. He sucks up his pride for once in his life. "I need some fuckin' help."

* * *

"So this is what happens to sweet little Sammy Winchester once strong, protective big brother is gone, huh?" the demon tied to a chair smirks up at him. She huffs a laugh. "It's pathetic. And quite hilarious!"

"Shut the fuck up," Sam courageously says. He's ready, he knows he is. He and Ruby have been training for a while now and he's gotten much stronger. His confidence is soaring.

"You're fucking adorable, you know that?" she winks to him with blackened eyes before continuing. "Man, I never thought I'd actually see the day you'd give in. It's about time really. I was getting tired of waiting. We all were."

"You just love talking, don't you?" Sam says with an air of superiority. No matter what this demon says to him, she's as good as gone so he listens either way.

"Yes. Or at least I love to talk when it gives me that chance to hear the sound of this cute little chickadee I'm riding. She's got a great voice, kinda sexy don't you think?" she smiles. "Don't get me wrong, Sammy. I'm glad you took the road less traveled here, but I have to say I'm surprised at you for messing with that lower then low piece of shit over there." She turns her attention to Ruby standing in the corner of the room.

"Watch what you say about me," Ruby warns while walking up and standing next to Sam. "Don't wanna piss off the big man any more than you already have."

"I could give a rat's ass who I piss off," the demon tells her. "I'm as good as back in the pit no matter what I say. Might as well speak my mind, right?"

"It's more like back in the pit if you're good," Ruby pulls out her knife, twisting it to show it off properly, "Or dead as a fucking doornail if you're not."

"What a crazy bitch," she calls Ruby before turning back to Sam. "You trust this lying sack? Man, and here I was thinking you were the brains of the operation all this time. Musta underestimated that Dean, huh?"

"Where's Lilith?" Sam asks quickly. Dean was off limits.

"Fuck me if I know," she answers back while she eyes him up and down. "Seriously, open invitation. I always heard you were something to look at, but damn."

"I'll pass, thanks."

"Funny, I heard you liked fucking demons… must've been bad intel."

"I'll ask again," Sam says loudly, ignoring the comment. "Where is Lilith?"

"I swear I don't know. She's hiding and doing a great job at it. Look, I don't like her, not in the least. I was holding out for you, dude. I never wanted to follow her."

Sam furrows his brow with the information. Ruby told him this demon would know something, be at least aware of where Lilith had been recently. He looks to Ruby and she simply shrugs.

"So you're no help to me then?" Sam threatens the bound demon. "I can get rid of you now?"

"If that's what you want, oh fearless leader," she jests back. "Like I said, I wanted it to be you, Sam, so you do what you must. I'm still loyal to the destined one. The one who will lead and save us all."

Sam's anger grows as he's once again referred to as an evil leader. That's not him and the idea that some demons still expect that of him irks him and makes him rageful. Sam raises his hand to her and closes his eyes to focus. He can feel the demon blood coursing rapidly through his system and he can see in his mind, through his dropped lids, the black smoke rising out of the demon. He hears her coughing as he works that quickly turns to gaging noises as the demon is expelled. The pain begins to grow in his temples as he struggles to finish yanking the demon out. He presses on through the ache to the very end, when the smoke dissipates and he's left in a briefly quiet room.

"You ok?" Ruby breaks in, a hand on his shoulder and concerned look on her face.

"Head hurts," he tells her as the headache stays put, making him wince and rub at his temples. He wipes under his nose and sees the red smeared across the back of his hand. "Still getting nose bleeds too, I guess."

"But it took less time and you never faltered. Smooth sailing, cowboy," Ruby points out as she moves to check the woman that's tied to the chair's pulse. "Still alive. Nice job, Sam."

Sam smiles at the idea that he's saved another person. It's a great feeling to be helping people like this, giving them a chance to live instead of having to kill them over demonic possession, which was never the victim's fault. It takes away some of the guilt, at least temporarily, from the life he's been living.

* * *

"Ah, grasshopper, you make me proud," Alistair grins. "You've done some fine work so far. Best damn student this side of existence."

Dean smiles back at his teacher while wiping clean the razor in his hand, his heart swelling with pride in himself as he does. It's been a long time since he's made someone pleased with him like this. It was comforting in an odd way.

Once off the rack, it was an easy transition for Dean to go from torturee to torturer. His whole life he's been dedicated to helping others but after thirty long, awful, horrific years of torment he's more than happy to dole some vengeance out. It felt good, like justice. And he was good at it, too. Damn good, scary good even. He took to it like a fish to water.

"And because you've been such a good student, I've decided to reward you, Dean. Bring in someone you've been dying to get your truly sadistic and wonderfully talented hands on."

Dean hopes with everything in him that it's who he truly wants. She's a bitch, a con artist, and a thief, and he knows she's been down there somewhere for even longer than he has. He's had his hopes high for the chance to make her soul beg for mercy. She's evil to her very core and after everything she'd put him and Sam through, she deserves what's coming to her.

"Please tell me it's who I hope it is," Dean asks, looking up to the taller demon standing at his side with eyes full of longing. Alistair says nothing but smiles widely before winking at Dean.

"Dean!" he hears the British accent proclaim while he closes his eyes and revels in the sound of fear in her voice.

He slowly turns his head and sees her, face wrinkled in anticipated anguish. He gives her his most evil grin and laughs. "Hey there, Bela. Long fucking time…" he raises his razor to her line of vision and watches as her fear makes itself well known. "No see."

"What is this?" she quickly asks, clearly confused by his demeanor.

"This…" Dean leans close into her, "Is karma being a  _real_ son of a bitch."

"Dean, this isn't you," Bela says to him pleadingly. "You'd never do this."

"Back when I knew you, no I wouldn't," Dean light-heartedly agrees. "But now… well, now I'm a whole new beast."

"Don't! Please, don't do this," the shaking voice asks. "I don't deserve this."

"No?" Dean asks with bulging eyes, shocked to hear her lie so easily even while in hell. "You are a lying, worthless, heartless bitch. You conned us, stole from us, you shot Sam! You are going to pay for all the shit you pulled up there. I'm going to make sure of that, _sweetie_."

With that, Dean sets to work repaying her for all she put him through in the past. Her screams act as confirmation to him that what he's doing is right, is a certain special brand of justice that only he could truly appreciate. The smile on his lips as Bela begs for mercy should be troublesome for him, but instead he finds happiness in it. Closing his eyes again to fully take in her horrified cries, something cuts through the sound of pain and makes him pause.

_Promise me you won't give in. You won't ever break._

This happens at least once a day. Lizzy's voice pushes its way through the mess and falls on his ears.

_Those evil sons of bitches are gonna do whatever it takes to turn you into the monster they want you to be. Don't you give them an inch. Not a fucking inch._

He got off that rack, breaking his vow to her, and now, even though he's no longer on the receiving end of the torture, he still feels the daily punishment her words dole out to him. He's still tortured, just in a new way.

"You're better than this, Dean," Bela calls out in a labored voice, trying to overcome the anguish she's going through. "This is not who you are."

"Fuck you," Dean bellows out as he whips his head in her direction. "You have no idea what I am!"

Bela gets the message, shutting her mouth to avoid making his anger any worse and therefore ensuring that her torture will be that much worse in turn.

Dean continues his work with a heavy heart. He misses her and over the thirty or more very long years he's started to forget what her face looks like, what her touch feels like, what she smells like. But her voice never left him. He still hangs onto that fiercely, even if it mind-fucks him daily.

* * *

"Ready?" the very gentlemanly, and very hot, man asks her as he holds open the passenger side door of his car.

"As I'll ever be," Lizzy smiles up to him before getting in. The second he walked into her bar that night, her heart nearly stopped. This guy looked eerily like him, from the green eyes to the spiky, though slightly darker, hair to the lightly freckled nose and cheeks. He was wearing a dark leather jacket and his confident, bow-legged gait was all too familiar. He spent the night playing pool and ordering whiskey straight from her and only her. When he went to the jukebox and Led Zeppelin started playing, it was a done deal for her. She needed him.

"How long you been working here?" he asks her once he's in the driver's seat. He starts up his Prius and pulls out of the parking space outside the bar. Maybe there were some subtle differences between this guy and Dean, but they were differences she was willing to overlook. It's desperate and a little pathetic, she's well aware, but over three months of horrible loneliness makes her decision to leave with a faux-Dean that much easier.

"A little over a month now," she explains as Flo Rida's 'Right Round' plays over the speakers. She's surprised to hear it. "You're into rap?"

"Oh yeah," he smiles to her. "There's something so poetic about it, like spoken word with a beat."

He says this as Lizzy hears the lyrics of the song playing.

_From the top of the pole I watch her go down. She got me throwin' my money around. Ain't nothin' more beautiful to be found. It's goin' down down._

"Just gorgeous," Lizzy jests with the horrendously written song. "Heartwarming."

"Well, sometimes it's just fun," he smiles to her.

"You like rock too thought, right?"

"Not really."

"But didn't you put Zeppelin on in the bar?"

"Been watching me all night, huh?" he confidently asks with a wink, very reminiscent of the way Dean would react. "I did that for my buddy. I usually crap on him for his terrible taste in music, but he beat me in pool so I had to put it on. He only likes that old stuff that been around so long it actually sounds dusty."

She just nods her head and keeps quiet. Ok, so there are several,  _huge_  differences here, she thinks. Maybe if she can get him to stop talking this can work for her. He parks the car in what she assumes is his driveway after a very short drive.

"Home sweet home," he says to her before opening the door to get out. She copies his actions and gets out of her side.

"Wow, I literally live like two blocks from here," she tells him as they walk up to the side door and he unlocks it.

"Been here for a few years," he explains while holding the door open to let her in. "You must be new to town if we haven't run into each other by now."

"Yeah, you're right. I'm originally from the area but left for a while before coming back a couple months ago." She looks around the house and sees the strewn about empty beer bottles and cans, the Xbox with controllers out, and the very large bong on the worn and chipped coffee table. "Got quite a frat house vibe going on around here, don't ya'?"

"Yeah, well when you put five guys in a house together this is what you tend to get," he says as he shuts the door and walks over to her, putting hands on her hips and pulling her in close. "So, I have to say I'm glad you took an interest in me tonight." He smiles warmly down at her in a way that should have put her at ease.

"Yeah?" Lizzy asks while circling her arms around his neck, trying to get something going.

"Oh definitely. There was a reason I kept going to only you for all my drinks tonight."

"So glad you did," she grins while he leans his head down to her. Their lips come together and she kisses someone for the first time since Dean left. Her lips move against his and she feels… nothing. It's empty and, while still slightly fun, it fills her with guilt instead of glee.

The Dean-alike runs his hands over her, grabbing her ass as he kisses her deeper and she has a flash of panic and sudden nausea. This is wrong. She really shouldn't be doing this. What the fuck was she thinking?

Lizzy pulls away, fake smile in place and looks up at the man she can't even remember the name of. "Hey, um, I'm so, so sorry, but I have to go."

"Really?" he asks, hurt and very confused.

"Shit, I shouldn't have come here," she calmly tells him while removing her arms from his neck. "I'm sorry, I know this is so mean of me but I really can't do this." She turns to leave through the door they came in, but she's stopped when he grasps her hand.

"Hey," he gently says as she turns back to face him. "Are you going to be ok?"

"No," she very honestly says before laughing quietly.

"Can I at least give you a ride home then?" It figures that he'd be so damn sweet when she's walking out on what was supposed to be a one-night-stand. She found one of the few nice guys actually out there and she's turning him down.

"Nah, I'll walk," she smiles up to the very kind man in front of her. "You're so fucking nice, you know that?"

"Yeah, I do. And once again it isn't working out for me at all," he laughs, his green eyes sparkling as he does and making her sure she's doing the right thing in leaving.

"It's a shame I'm such a mess then. Well, just tell your buddies whatever you want when they get back," she says. "Next time you all come in I'll play along."

"Pity, nice," he grins down to her.

"Not pity, dude," she assures him. "The next whiskey is on me, ok?" She cranes her neck up and kisses him on the cheek.

"Deal."

"Goodnight," she bids as she walks out the door, taking a deep breath of fresh air to keep the sickness of her churning stomach at bay. She begins her short trek home, her mind running the entire way. She's never going to move on, she thinks. Never. She knows it'll won't get easier either. Might as well look into convents at this point. How fucking pathetic of her to try and  _replace_ him, even for a just a night. How could she do that? Dean deserves so much better than that.

Time to go home and drink alone… again.

* * *

 


	8. August 29th: You Can't Stop Change

**_August 29_ _th_ _, 2008_ **

* * *

 

She walks into the building and revels in its familiarity and comfort. She's come through this same doorway hundreds, thousands of times in the past but it's been years since the last time. On many occasions this place felt more like home than her actual house and with good reason. She always left her stress, her fears, all her negative emotions within its walls. It's the glue that had always held her together and now she hopes that it still can, especially today.

"Lizzy?" she hears the voice she knows better than her own call out to her from the open studio door. Peeking in, she sees Karen, her dance teacher and surrogate second mother. They haven't laid eyes on each other for years, not since Lizzy left town to hit the road with her best friend. Karen has known her since she was just seven years old. She became Lizzy's role model through the years and Karen always took a special interest in her.

"Hi Karen!" Lizzy smiles and walks quickly over to her, hugging her tight. It felt unbelievably good to see her. If she was ever going to experience what it's like to have a mother again, this was it.

"Oh my God," Karen happily sighs before pulling away. "How are you! Where have you been!"

"Everywhere," Lizzy tells her truthfully. "Went on an extensive road trip with a friend… for a long time."

"Lou?" Karen just assumes.

"Yeah," Lizzy says simply, not prepared to talk about her best friend on this day. "But I'm back in town now. Looking to take a class maybe."

"Good!" Karen brightly says. "I have a contemporary class starting in a few. You should jump in."

"Perfect," Lizzy says in return with a lower tone than she meant to use. This woman has been so good to her, so caring that letting her in on the fact that life hasn't been sunshine and rainbows isn't something she wants to do. She does her best to keep the conversation easy and manageable but Karen can see right past it.

"What's up?" Karen questions.

"Nothing," Lizzy smiles, trying to assure Karen as best she could. She fails miserably.

"That's a load of crap. You're not yourself. Why?"

Lizzy sighs loudly and looks down at the floor. "Life hasn't been… easy. At all." Lizzy feels the lump form in her throat and hopes with everything she has that Karen will back off.

"Well, you came to the right place then," Karen tells her, knowing she must be talking about the loss of her parents. "Just like old times, you go in there and leave all the shit inside," she points to Lizzy's heart, "on the dance floor. As long as you have a fraction of that love you used to have for dance in there somewhere, then use it right now, when you need it the most. Go do what you do best."

Lizzy smiles sadly and gets herself ready to dance for the first time in longer than she can remember. It's something she used to love, her heart belonged to it completely, and now that she's avoided and shut down this entire part of her for far too long she feels like it may be gone. The freedom and release it used to bring even in the worst of times is exactly what she is chasing now. If she's going to move on, going to keep her vow to Dean, then it starts right here, right now. This is her turning point.

God, she really hopes this works. Today has been horrendously difficult to get through and she needs any help she can get.

* * *

He knows it happened. He felt it clearly.

His newest victim is on the rack in front of him, screaming out for Helen once more. Dean assumed it was his wife and this was the one thing that still nagged him about what he does. Whenever someone asked for, shouted for, begged for another person, it always hit home and made the job at hand so much more difficult. It made him think of Sam and Lizzy, or whatever was left of them in his mind and heart, but he always barreled through the guilt and regret. Once he got past that, he happily continued his slicing and dicing with pure delectation. Today was different, however.

The remorse really started melting away over the past few years. It got easier and easier to bare the screams of torment coming from his projects. Maybe it was just that he got used to it all, desensitized, or maybe he was simply enjoying it more. Whatever the reason, he was different. He's been changed.

"Helen! Please, let me see my Helen again!" the man on his rack pleads as tears streak his face.

"Sorry, man," Dean says to him with zero emotion. "You got yourself here, you know you did. Now's not the time for second thoughts." Dean sharpens the razor he's used every day since he'd gotten off the rack. It was a treasured gift from his former harasser and he cherishes it with pride. Alistair gave him a chance at happiness again, something he hadn't felt since he last saw  _her_. Once that chance was given to him, he's used it to its fullest extent, getting vengeance for everything he's lost and had to give up.

"I just need to know she's ok," he cries out. "Please!"

"Shut the fuck up," Dean tells him, using his old standby insult for a different person.

"Why are you doing this? Why?" The man looks over to Dean with scared and pitiful eyes.

Dean freezes for a moment and then turns his head slowly to meet the tear-filled gaze of his victim. It is a good question he's been asked and thinking about it briefly he finds the answer with surprising ease. He smiles while leaning down closer to the man, bringing his mouth inches from his ear.

"My whole life I had been fighting for what I thought was right and just, and as a reward I got my heart stomped on and my ass handed to me over and over again. I tried, tried my absolute hardest to be good and decent and everything I was supposed to be but no matter how hard I tried, I ended up… right here, with you." Dean backs away slightly to meet the man's eyes again, his rage burning hotter.

"I don't understand," the man cries. "How can a person turn into this?"

"Easily, actually," Dean admits while standing straight and looking down upon his prey. His transition was flawless for the most part, and shockingly smooth. "And now, it's my turn. I'm in charge and I get to deal out a little of that pain I've been put through my whole fucking life. I deserve to have some fun, to be on the other side. I've earned this! I'm the fucking monster for once!"

As Dean shouts the man's face reveals sudden total terror as Dean feels it happen. His eyes twitch and he knows they flash black quickly before returning to their normal green. It's never happened before, even after years of being an evil son of a bitch torture master. Instead of being fearful and unnerved by the event, he revels in the feeling.

"My friend, you came to me on a hell of a day," Dean smiles out. "No pun intended."

"You're awful," the broken man laments. "You're inhuman!"

"You know and I'm actually ok with that," Dean tells him before setting to work, loving the sounds his victim makes as he rips into him.

* * *

Sitting on the stone steps for a half hour now, Sam's growing impatient as the hot summer breeze blows through his hair. He doesn't know where she is and he probably should have called first instead of just drop in but the idea of being alone today was daunting. He needed Lizzy.

Hearing the roar of the Mustang on the other side of the house, relief washes over him with the sound. She's back. He sighs and waits, hearing the slapping of flip-flops coming closer as she makes her way down the paved walkway toward him. He smiles sadly when she appears around the corner.

"Hey," he says quietly, hoping to get her attention as she's looking down at her keys for the right one to open the apartment.

"Sam," she states simply when she looks up at him. Sam sees her reddened eyes and smudged makeup. She's having about as good a day as he is, he thinks. "Saw the Impala out back."

Walking quickly, Sam meets her halfway in the space between them. He hugs her tight and she responds with the same; arms locked around his waist and face buried in his t-shirt. She sighs heavily, letting his presence wash over her. "I'm so glad you're here."

"Me too," he responds without letting go.

"Today sucks my dick."

"Yeah," Sam says while loosening his hold and pulling an arm around Lizzy's shoulders, standing to her side. They walk to the front door without another word and Sam follows her into the apartment he's yet to visit. She drops her bag by the door and trudges up the staircase. Sam trails along and stands in the kitchen doorway, watching her reach into the refrigerator and pull out two beer bottles. She then walks to him, grabs his hand, and pulls him down the hallway, into the living room.

"Take a load off," she says while replacing her hand with a beer and pointing to the large, comfy looking couch. They both sit next to each other and twist open their bottles. Sam holds his up to Lizzy.

"To Lou," he cheers sadly. "A hell of a hunter… and friend."

"To my sister," Lizzy responds and clinks the two bottles together before draining half the liquid in it. She swallows the last gulp. "Six fucking months."

"Six long ass months," Sam adds while reaching over and grabbing her hand again, needing the contact and silent support.

"You're telling me," Lizzy agrees. "These have been the worst six months of my God damn life. And that is saying a lot."

Sam shakes his head and goes in for another long pull from his beer.

"Surprised you left the house today, honestly," Sam comments. "I would have called if I thought you'd be out."

"Had to get out. Sometimes doing nothing is so much worse," she answers back. "Actually, I took a class today."

"Dance? You did?" He's surprised and relieved by what she shares.

"Yeah," she explains.

"It's good you have that. An outlet, I mean," Sam explains. He wishes to God he had an outlet too. Maybe he would have handled his life differently these past few months if he did.

"I agree, but I don't think it's enough anymore," she says while finishing her beer. "Didn't feel the same. Maybe I'm just too fucked up now. I think I need something a little stronger than beer. You?"

"Yes," Sam says emphatically as he watches Lizzy leave the room. He scans his surroundings. It's pretty sparse, Lizzy not having gone out of her way to fill the apartment with anything more than the essentials. Basic furniture and electronics. The only thing decorating the barren dwelling is the familiar guitar resting in its stand in the corner of the living room. The sight alone makes Sam want to cry with the memories it jostles free.

Lizzy comes back in, placing two glasses and a bottle of Jameson on the coffee table.

"That's Lou's, isn't it?" he asks while nodding at the instrument. Lizzy looks over to the worn acoustic guitar while pouring.

"Yes," Lizzy responds, handing one glass over and picking up the other for herself while sitting down again. "Her favorite thing in the whole world… besides us of course." She tries to smile but the expression never reaches her eyes. "Makes me feel like she's here somewhere, still with me."

"Can't say I'm not jealous that you have that," Sam states, knowing that having the Impala and the necklace he gave Dean when they were kids helps keep him linked to the brother he misses so much. "Don't really have much of Lou's… besides the picture you gave me a while back. That's still in the glove compartment, by the way."

"Good. Love that picture," Lizzy tells him while taking sip of whiskey and thinking. "You know what?" Lizzy asks and stands up again, walking out of the room and returning a few moments later. "Here. You gave me Dean's jacket, now I'm giving you this."

Sam reaches out and grabs ahold of the plain silver ring Lizzy offers him. He rolls it between his fingers, inspecting the nicked and dented metal and noticing the words etched inside. He reads it out loud. "Do what you believe is right."

"Lou's mom gave her that when she graduated high school," Lizzy begins explaining. "It's something Jane said to her and her brother… and me, really… every damn day. Jane was kind of a hippie and always had these kinda sayings she'd repeat to us all the time, trying to keep us grounded and whatnot. Louie never took it off for a second once it was on. After her parents died, she guarded that thing with her life."

"Wow," Sam whispers, blown away with the gesture. "Are you sure about this?"

"Definitely," Lizzy says with all honesty. "I think Lou would love for you to have it. And I think it's a message she's really want to share with you… especially right now in life."

Sam wrinkles his brow, knowing what Lizzy is trying to do for him. "Thank you… so much, Lizzy," Sam says as the threat of crying overcomes him. Instead of giving in, he takes a gulp of whiskey to burn it away.

"You're very welcome," she says. "Man, am I happy you're here."

Sam wraps his arm around her shoulders once again and they sit tight for a while, exchanging Lou memories and reminiscing about better years, leaning onto one another the entire time.

* * *

"Hello?"

"Hey Bobby," Lizzy says on the other end. "Thought I'd call and check on you."

Bobby huffs a quiet laugh at this. "Shouldn't I be the one checkin' on you today?"

"Probably, but when has that ever stopped me before?"

"Touché," Bobby responds. "How're you doin' today?"

"Shitastic. I went back to dance though, like I told you I was going to. Seemed like the right day for it." Her voice is hollow and low.

"Good," Bobby tells her honestly while dropping into his favorite living room chair to get comfortable. They talked so often and every time Bobby liked to settle in and enjoy the fact that she was so caring toward him. "I'm glad you went back. Did it help?"

"Oh yeah," she says with sarcasm. "I cried while halfway through a combination in front of about twelve other strangers. It was awesome."

"Well, art'll do that to ya', make ya' emotional I guess. Or at least that's what I'm told." Bobby never had a penchant for the artistic world, but the way Lizzy used to talk about dance and how she missed it so much once she dedicated herself to hunting he knew it was special to her, important.

"Yeah, well, I don't think I'm much of an artist anymore. I'm an old ass, hardened hunter now. Doesn't have the same appeal," sheadmits aloud with a sigh. "Been a shitty six months."

"I know, hon. It sucks dick but what can you do."

"Exactly what I said," Lizzy says before pausing. "So, um, Sam's here."

"He is!" Bobby asks with excitement and shock. It's been far too long and he's missed that kid. He's also glad that Sam went to her on such a difficult day. It makes him happy they have each other right now.

"Yeah, sitting right next to me and looking at me like he hates me. Whoops, guess I wasn't supposed to tell you about him being here... heads up, I'm putting you on speaker."

Before Bobby can protest he hears the speaker click over.

"Can you hear me?" Lizzy questions.

"Yeah, I hear ya'."

"Good, now say hi to each other or something."

"Hey Bobby," Sam says in his gentile way, like he always did. It melted his heart a little to hear him sound like the old Sam he's missed so much.

"Sam," Bobby says simply and the two grow quiet.

"Ok. Not awkward at all," Lizzy breaks in sarcastically. "You guys blow so here's the deal. I'm tired of being your go between. Time to cut the shit and be men. Sam, you've been an ass and you need to stop avoiding Bobby. And Bobby, you were really mean the last time you two talked. You need to be more understanding seeing as the dude lost his fucking brother to hellfire and everyone deals with shit differently. I'm leaving the two of you to have at it. Now talk and fix this."

Bobby hears the speaker click over once more and it's just him and Sam.

"You there?" he hears Sam ask.

"Yeah, I'm here. What a pain in the ass she is." Lizzy always knew how to get on Bobby's nerves by constantly doing the right thing, the kind of things families do for each other. It was frustrating as hell… and highly respectable.

"Definitely. But she cares. A lot. This whole thing has been really hard on her. Us adding to it doesn't help."

"I know, but Sam, you've been killin' me. You have to know that." Bobby needs to tell him how awful Sam's made life on him. He wants him to understand so it doesn't continue. "The disappearing and the secret life…"

"I know. Bobby, I do know," Sam explains. "It's just… I can't tell you everything, not yet. I just need you to trust me."

"I do trust you," Bobby tells him. He does, always has. "But I still worry. I can't help that at all, any good fath…" Bobby stops himself. It's not something they've talked about, but he's always considered himself as their dad once John had passed, and maybe even before then. He's their father in almost every way but blood. That has to count for something. It does in Bobby's eyes at least.

"Look," Sam starts, trying to avoid the hefty conversation Bobby almost let slip. "I never set out to hurt you or worry you. You know I wouldn't do that."

"I like to think so, but you've made it awful hard to believe that," Bobby admits.

"I'm sorry, Bobby." He sounds completely sincere.

"Thank you." It's what Bobby's been wanting to hear for so long. "Please keep in touch, kid. Please don't disappear like that again, huh?"

"I'll do what I can."

Bobby sighs. Nothing is going to change, he can feel it. God damn.

"Thanks," Bobby grumbles. This didn't go so well. It's going to stay the same.

Once again, Bobby thinks to himself at least Sam's alive and well. It's still one of the few things he clings to.

* * *

 


	9. September 4th: Hitting the Proverbial Wall

**_September 4_ _th_ _, 2008_ **

* * *

 

He feels the solid surface of the wall against his back as he's pressed into it with force. This demon is one son of a bitch, Bobby thinks as he finds himself pinned to the living room wall by the demon's unseen power. And strong, too. Much stronger than either he or Rufus had previously though.

"Shit," Bobby coughs out while trying to regain his breath. He thought this would be an easy one. Rufus mentioned he tracked a low level demon to a town outside Reno and could use a hand catching the bastard. Now he thinks his buddy wasn't completely forthcoming with his intel.

"Ah, Bobby Singer. Good to see you out and about again," the demon grins while slowly making his way to him. "I thought after Dean's descent you would be a useless piece of shit. I underestimated you."

"Yeah, well, next time maybe you'll estimate me," Bobby quips while unable to move.

"There won't be a next time," the black-eyed man returns while looking up at the frozen hunter and grinning. "You have been an unwelcomed dick in all of our asses for far too long, old man. I think your bill has come due today." He winks quickly and suddenly Bobby is filled with the all-consuming pain of his internal organs and bones crushing under a tremendous weight. It never lets up, burning and searing through him. He wishes he could say it was the first time he's felt this, but sadly it wasn't… not even close.

As suddenly as it began, the pain stops when he hears the demon screaming out. Opening his eyes, he sees the white cloud of steam rising above the demon as it's doused with holy water.

"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii."

Bobby drops to the floor with a thud as the demon's powers are weakened, landing on his side and causing him to curse with the pain shooting through his arm. He hears the demon yell out again as Rufus continues to spray it with blessed water shooting forth from a bright, multi-colored Super Soaker.

"Omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica. Ergo, draco maledicte et omnis legio diabolica, adjuramus te. Cessa decipere humanas creaturas, eisque æternæ perditionìs venenum propinare... shit!" Rufus shouts as the large water gun is flung from his hands. The demon, staring him down through eyes as dark as night, takes a couple quick steps in his direction.

"I don't fucking think so, Rufus!" the demon booms as it swipes its hand through the air, sending him sliding with rapid speed across the wooden floor and into the far wall. He stops abruptly when his body cracks the drywall on impact.

"Damn it," Rufus says in a labored voice, struggling to at least sit up and face his attacker, but the pain is too much at the moment. His head spins as heavy footsteps slowly make their way closer.

"I had always hoped I'd get the chance to rip you a new asshole after what you did to me," the demon confesses. "You sent me back. I've been stuck down there for years, burning, screaming, and I owe it all to you." He leans over and reaches out for Rufus, gripping his collar in his strong hands. "Now, I'm gonna kill you. Nice and slow…" but before he can do anything to the hunter, the demon cries out in anguish again, releasing its hold.

"Vade, satana, inventor et magister omnis fallaciæ, hostis humanæ salutis..." Bobby begins picking up where Rufus left off from his spot standing behind the demon. He managed to get up and grab the Super Soaker. Now he douses the evil being and tries his best to finish off the exorcism. "Humiliare sub potenti manu Dei; contremisce et effuge, invocato a nobis sancto et terribili nomine... quem inferi tremunt..." Bobby pauses when he realizes he's out of holy water. The gun is empty and he's left sans weapon. He tosses the plastic toy off to the side and takes out a large hunting knife from the sheath on his belt, holding it in front of himself as the demon turns to him. He begins reciting the exorcism even faster. "Ab insidiis diaboli, libera nos, Domine. Ut Ecclesiam tuam secura tibi facias libertate servire."

The demon reaches Bobby in no time and grasps tightly onto his throat. He begins to raise the hunter off of the ground with its tremendous strength.

"Te… roga… mus," he struggles out as his windpipe his constricted more. "Audi… nos!"

The demon lets go and Bobby hits the ground hard for the second time in mere minutes. He takes a quick second to recover and find his breath before jumping to his feet while the black smoke fills the room, covering the ceiling. He rushes to Rufus, checking him over and making sure he's alright.

"Rufus!" Bobby shouts to him while pulling him up to a seated position. "You ok? Talk to me!"

"Yeah, yeah," Rufus says, brushing off the alarm in Bobby's voice. "I'm fine. Let go of me, damn it!" Rufus swats Bobby away and begins to slowly stand up, struggling with the ache of his impact with the wall. "That demon was an asshole when I exorcized him last time. Nice to see that some things never change."

"No shit," Bobby comments while walking to check the now demon-free body on the floor. He presses two fingers to the limp form's throat. "Fuck. He's dead."

"Figures," Rufus remarks while kicking the empty water gun into the wall.

"Super Soaker, huh?" Bobby questions with a slight smile.

"Found it in the garage. Looked like fun to me."

"It was, actually," Bobby laughs quietly. "Ah, thanks, Rufus."

"For what?" Rufus looks over at him with a confused face.

"I'm not an idjit. I know you were tryin' to get me outta the house, get me huntin' again."

Rufus laughs a little. "I just needed someone to back me up is all. All the good hunters were busy, so I had to call your old ass."

"Yeah, right," Bobby shakes his head. "Well, either way thanks for lettin' me in on this one. I needed it."

"Whatever, Bobby," Rufus comments while gathering up any weapons that had been strewn around the room throughout the struggle. "Just remember who taught you everything you know, huh?"

"Well then I guess you're a pretty shitty teacher," Bobby laughs.

* * *

He feels the solid surface of the wall against his back as he’s pressed into it with force.  Sam smiles wider than he has in longer than he can remember as the petite blond woman uses the palms of her hands against his chest to keep him there.  She smiles something mischievous up to him.

“Mmm, been waiting _way_ too long to have my way with you again, Giant,” she winks while running her hands over his t-shirt, sighing with the feel of the hard planes of his chest and snaking them up to his neck.  She pulls him down to her much shorter level and kisses him with sheer intent.  Her lips move softly, her tongue making its way to his and she quietly moans while melting her body against him.  Sam places a hand to each side of her face and pulls her back a little, wanting to see her just for a quick moment, making sure it’s really her.

“God, I’ve missed you, Lou,” he says while looking into her bright blue eyes.  She's beautiful, he’d always thought so.  It may have taken some time for him to come around to the very forward and bold woman but once he gave into her he’d never been the same.  He wanted her and just her.

“Missed you too, Sam,” she smiles warmly before licking her lips.  “All of you.”  Her hands find the button of his pants and her eyes widen playfully.  Sam brings her back in for another kiss as she sets to work.  It’s surreal, the feel of her, the taste of her.  Ever since she died he’s been lost.  He couldn’t have her, any of her, and it crushed him.  Right now however, he isn’t lost at all.  He’s been found.

“Oh, hello big guy,” Lou grins with excitement when she finds exactly what she’d been looking for.  Sam closes his eye and revels in the warm sensation of her slender and very dexterous hand working him over.  All too soon however, the feeling disappears and Sam opens his eyes, searching with confusion for a reason why.  When he does, he sees Lou walking backwards while curing a finger towards herself, beckoning him to follow her to the motel bed.  He begins taking slow steps to follow, feeling like an obedient and eager puppy as he does.  In the moment, she could have asked anything of him and he’d do it without question.

He watches as she begins to undress while he makes his way, pulling her Red Sox t-shirt she’d been wearing when they’d first met over her head and lowering her jeans to the floor before stepping out of them.  God damn she looked good waiting for him in just her black bra and panties.  Her body is tight, well maintained and bring-him-to-his-knees inviting.  There was always just something about her that made him crazy ever since the time they spent alone on Bobby’s couch.

“You... are beautiful,” Sam says as he picks up his pace, pulling his own t-shirt over his head and eager to get to her.  He stops when he’s standing in front of her, grinning from ear to ear.

“You keep sweet talking me like that you’re gonna get yourself into trouble, Sammy Boy,” she jests.  Sam reaches out towards her, aching to touch her again but before he can get his hands on her he’s pushed once more.  For such a small person, she was strong. 

Sam falls backwards onto the bed, lying across it on his back as he feels her hands on him once more.  She drags them down his sides and when she reaches his waist she gasps his pants and boxer-briefs in her fists.

“Jesus, best fucking body ever,” Lou asks while stripping away the last of his clothing and eyeing him with carnal want.  “You seem even…larger… than I remember.”  She grins wide and Sam’s lucky he’s already lying down as his knee would have gone too weak to keep him standing with the look in her eyes.

“Maybe,” Sam smiles out as he props himself up on his elbows and watches her.  Lou bites her lip, something she always did when ready to devour her prey, and it makes him impatient.  He’s more turned on than he’s ever been before; she just has that effect on him.

“Well fuck, Sam,” Lou comments while unhooking her bra and letting it fall to the floor.  “You are looking just edible these days!”  She sighs while kicking out of her panties, letting them fly behind her.  Sam swears he can feel the blush creep over his skin at her leering and blunt comments. 

Usually he feels uncomfortable with such remarks, but when Lou says them he’s more than fine.  Still a little embarrassed, but in a good way if that’s at all possible.

“I hope you’re ready for me,” she slyly says while slowly crawling up his legs, eyes darkening with lust, and straddling his hips.  She leans forward and brings her lips to his, brushing against them as she speaks.  “Because I’m going to wear you out, Sam.  I’ve been absolutely dying for this for too long… no pun intended there.”

“You have no fucking idea,” Sam returns before kissing her again, deep and serious.  He had been needing this for so damn long and the feeling of her hand reach between the two of them, wrapping her fingers around him once more, may have just broken what little sense he still had about him.  She presses her forehead to his, looking right into him, and guides him into her.

“Oh my God,” she moans, pausing for a moment.  “So fucking good.” 

Sam wraps his arms around her, keeping her close as he savors the feel.  It’s too good to be true, he thinks quickly.  How could this be happening?  The flash of questioning doubt swiftly disappears when Lou begins rocking her hips, the blissful feeling distracting him completely.

“Lou,” Sam whispers out before reaching a hand up to the back of her head and bringing her in to another fervid kiss.  Skin practically on fire, Lou moans loudly, just like he always remembers her doing.

“Sam,” she says against his lips, riding him faster now while grasping his hands in hers.  “Oh, Sam.”  This time Sam’s pulled out of the moment with the sound of her voice.  It’s off, something is wrong.

“Hey, Sam!” 

What the hell?  That’s not her voice.  Sam blinks rapidly with the surprise and when his focus returns he’s in the same motel room he remembers falling asleep in, but it’s a different woman he’s looking at.

“You in there?” Ruby questions while leaning over him.  The room is dark and he now remembers lying down next to her.  It was a dream, a very real dream none the less, and waking from its blissfulness is the biggest let down of his life. 

“Yeah, here,” Sam quietly replies while staring at the ceiling, his tone saturated with disdain.

“Man, you were making some crazy noises there,” Ruby tells him while swinging a leg over him and sitting on his hips.  “Care to share that fun little dream of yours?”

“Not really,” Sam responds while Ruby drags her tongue up the side of his neck.  Sam rolls his eyes, the anger building with the disappointment.  This wasn’t the first time he’s dreamed of her like this and he’s sure now that Lou’s going to haunt him for the rest of his damn life at this point.

“You want to reenact some of it then?” Ruby asks while nipping at his ear.  Sam quickly decides to take advantage of the situation and flips her onto her back with himself hovering over her.  He lowers himself to bring his lips to hers.  It isn’t the woman he wanted, but she was there and his frustrations were on serious high.  Time to use Ruby for all she’s worth once more.

* * *

She feels the solid surface of the wall against her back as she's pressed into it with force. The man in front of her, pinning her, has his forearm across her neck. He could be crushing her windpipe if he wanted to but she knows he won't. Thinking quickly, she brings her right arm up and grasps onto his wrist, pulling it harshly out to the side of his body and twisting it with brute force. She stops before going too far and inflicting any real damage. Lizzy then uses her left hand, palm open, and thrusts forward into the man's ribs, pushing him back and setting herself free from his hold. She smiles brightly while returning to a ready stance, thinking just for a split second of how proud Dean would be of her. She's still good, still got it. She knows he'd grin like an idiot over the show she puts on and she swears she can hear his voice in the back of her mind…  _'That's my girl!'_

"Nice work, Lizzy. Quick thinking," the man says to her as he backs up.

"Thanks, Mike," she returns with a sad smile, the brief thought of Dean pulling her back to a somber place. She drops her prepared-for-attack position. She's come by the self-defense complex a few times now. Without Lou around, she has no one to work on hand-to-hand combat with so she needed to find a way to keep up with her fighting skills. She may be out of the game for the most part, but you never know what's around the next corner and she never wants to be caught with her pants down. And most importantly, she's found that it helps with her frustration and anger, which she's always had a hard time controlling.

"Damn, you should do this for a living, you know that?" Mike says while wiping the sweat from his forehead. "You give me a run for my money every time you come in."

"Yeah I do," Lizzy says with a small grin, her good mood still not fully returning. "I mean, you  _are_  kind of a pussy so it's not like it's hard to take you down anyways." She adds in a wink for good measure.

"Wow," Mike says with wide eyes and a smile. "You're lucky I have another client coming in or else I'd have to prove just how wrong you are."

"Yeah, right," Lizzy brushes off with a serious tone as she takes a sip of water from her water bottle. Once upon a time she used the container for holy water, the spout on it perfect for long distance strikes, but now it's found a new use for her, the use it was meant to have.

"Seriously though," Mike says, changing the topic back to what he'd wanted to say before. "Here, takes these. You know how to kick some ass, Lizzy. And you're very well trained with some killer instincts."

"I'll have to let the sensei know you said that," Lizzy laughs small, referring to Bobby. She mentioned to Mike before that she had a trainer that she affectionately called sensei, but never revealed that he was an old, grizzled hunter living in a huge, broken down house on a salvage yard. Seemed to her that most would laugh off the idea.

"You should! And if you very wisely decide to take my advice and get certified, I'll always have a place waiting for you here." He hands over the pamphlets he brought out to give her. "And honestly, it feels like you need something like this in your life."

Lizzy glances down and reads the heading; 'The Guardian'. It's a self-defense certification program. She then returns her gaze to Mike, her face showing the surprise of his correct assumptions.

"I'm sorry if I said too much," Mike apologizes, getting the feeling that he went too far.

"No," Lizzy shakes her head, "It's fine. And you're right. I could use the distraction. Yeah, I'll think about it," she promises before saying goodbye and grabbing her things. So far, this was the one thing that she's found that can take away her pain and distract her from the usually depressing thoughts that constantly rule her mind. And she was damn good at it. Beating the crap out of people, or more likely things, always made her happy, feel accomplished even.

She walks out of the building and into the bright sunlight while thinking that maybe she should give it a whirl. It could be good for her in the long run. It'll keep her in shape and sharp, and it made her happy, even in the midst of her depression. Plus, she thinks it'd be something Dean would want her to do. He's love for her to find a way to stay ready and remain an ass kicker.

Lizzy puts the key into the door of the old Mustang and sighs. Back to reality and back to constant reminders of what she's lost. Every time she gets into the car, it makes her sad. Louie loved this car and it meant so much to her. At least now it's still in the hands of a person it has profound meaning for. Lizzy starts the engine and turn on some Petty, thinking of her friend as she drives home to get ready for the late shift at the bar.

* * *

He feels the solid surface of the wall against the back of the man's head as he slams it down onto the rack with force. Dean's angry, very angry.

"You want to say that to me again?" he challenges in a low, gruff tone of voice with sheer ire. How dare this man, this piece of shit, this soul sold for such a selfish and petty reason, talk to him in that way?

"Go fuck yourself buddy," the man says back with little concern for his own safety. "I've been here for years now. I've seen it all. So go right ahead, give it your best shot, bad ass."

Dean brings his face close, so close his nose presses against that of the clearly stupid man on his rack, and he shakes with anger. He's noticed that over the years of being a tormentor his level of rage within him has grown to epic proportions. It's what drives him to do what he does every day, even if deep down he knows how wrong it is.

"You are seriously going to regret saying that to me," Dean warns through a clenched jaw. "You may have been down here for a while, but you've never seen anything like  _me_."

"Oh, I'm sure I haven't. What, you think you're the big hot shot around here? Please…" the man rolls his eyes.

He hears the words and backs up, turning away from the mouthy man and pausing for a second. Hot shot. It makes him think of Lizzy. She's always there with him somehow, buried deep and just creeping up on him now and then, but he does what he can to suppress her presence in his mind. It makes his job too hard to do. He grips tighter to the razor in his hand and he realizes he's still shaking, but now it's not from anger. It's from total anxiety. This guy is doing a number on him unintentionally. First his ridiculous lack of fear and now the use of her nickname for him, he can't do it.

"C'mon, dude, let's get this show on the road already," the strapped down man shouts to him. "What, you can't get it up for me?" Dean hears the laughter and shakes his head. He's right, Dean can't do it.

"Fuck," Dean laments and drops the razor. In a flash the man on the rack is gone and Alistair is at his side.

"Grasshopper, what  _is_  this?" he questions Dean with impatience and disappointment. "Since when do the whiny, all be it mouthy, little bitches I hand over get the better of you? This is unacceptable, Dean!"

"I'm sorry," he responds quietly, surprised by just how saddened he is to let the Grand Inquisitor down. "I don't know what's wrong. I just…"

"Oh, knock it off," Alistair pokes fun. "This self-loathing bullshit is about to make me puke. Cut the weak shit and get back in there." Alistair hands back over his razor and Dean grasps it in his hand. He stares down at it for a moment, thinking how wrong it felt in his hand for the first time since taking it up, and blinks rapidly. He tries to clear his mind of such thoughts and get back on track. He made a deal, off the rack to put souls on. That's what he has to do.

"Now," Alistair begins while turning Dean by his shoulders back in the direction of the rack. A new soul is on it, waiting with terror and horrid anticipation in her eyes. Dean feels the pat on the ass as it propels him forward. "Get back in there and make big daddy proud!"

* * *

 


	10. September 18th: Return of the Living Dead

**_September 18_ _th_ _, 2008_ **

* * *

 

Fuck everything. That is Lizzy's sentiment for the day.

She called out from work and decided to wallow in her crippling misery once more. She had been improving over the past month or so, leaving the comfort of her apartment and doing normal, everyday things. Sadly, while doing said normal things she always felt like she was screaming at the top of her lungs on the inside, desperate to stop pretending that she was ok. She certainly was  _not_  ok. Far from it in fact, she just knew how to put on a good show. Now, while well on her way to drunkenness, and hopefully a relaxing, thoughtless blackout, Lizzy sits on the couch alternating between taking huge gulps of whiskey, crying, and staring at nothing at all, letting her horrific imagination take over and fuck with her in ways that would make the average person insane.

Four ridiculously long months since he's been gone and she's no better than the day Sam showed up on her doorstep with the worst, most crushing news she's ever been given. She tried, God damn it did she ever try, to live that life Dean wanted for her. She got a job, got out of hunting, even tried to go on a date a week ago. She cancelled last minute of course, saying she was sick. It wasn't a lie technically. An hour before getting picked up, she put on her outfit for the night, took one look at herself in the mirror, and then proceeded to sprint down the hallway of her apartment. She dove onto the bathroom floor in front of the toilet just in time to throw up at the thought of attempting to consider another man.

Nothing worked. Nothing at all. She's going to let him down and there's nothing she can do about it. His hold on her was way too powerful and she was no longer strong enough to overcome it. It hurt everyday just to live but what hurt even more than that was the thought that he'd be so fucking disappointed in her for being so weak, so unable to be all that he thought she could be.

She pulls the ear-buds out of her ears when she can just make out the sound of her cell ringing over 'You and Me'. She was in the middle of listening to her playlist entitled 'Dean' for the second time that day. Reaching out to check her phone, she peers at the screen, only assuming she will see either Bobby or Sam's names on it. She always heard from both of them on every one of either Dean or Lou's morose and heartbreaking anniversaries.

"What the fuck?" she mutters to herself when only a phone number appears. Not being familiar at all with the area code, she sighs and decides to answer it. If someone needed help maybe she can direct them to Sam because right now, she was a waste of life.

"Hello?" she says with a sad tone, barely audible to herself none-the-less the caller.

"L!"

It's his voice, a bit rougher than usual, but as clear as day. She hears it every night in her dreams so there is no mistaking that sound. Fright takes an icy, strangling grip on her throat and she hangs up immediately. She couldn't get her voice to work, having been paralyzed by shock. She keeps the phone clutched tightly in her hand while question the whole thing.

"What the fuck just happened?" she whispers to herself, her body shaking and a hand pressed to her forehead. Is she losing her shit finally, because if she was, she wouldn't be surprised in the least? Her heart pounds in her chest with the terrible moment.

She jumps when the phone in her iron-gripped fist suddenly rings again. Peeking at the screen with dread she registers that the same number is calling her. Jamming her finger hard onto one of the buttons, she ignores the call. It's not him. It can't be, she tried to assure herself. And whatever is fucking with her won't get the satisfaction of her reaction to it.

Phone still in hand, she takes a big swig from her Jameson bottle that was sitting at the foot of the couch. Shit, she should seriously call Sam. If she's about to get a one-way ticket to the loony bin, she'd at least like him to know with insane asylum to find her in.

The ringing starts up again and she squeezes her eyes shut, tears cresting over and falling down her cheeks as she does. She can't take it. Lizzy winds up and throws the phone with all the strength she had in her. It hits the wall and breaks into two pieces before clattering to the floor. She curls up in the corner of the couch and sobs as the experience really seeps in. She misses him so badly that the whole thing leaves her shaken, depressed, and absolutely terrified.

"Where the fuck are you, Louie?" she cries into her hands. "God, I need your help. I'm losing it."

* * *

She hung up immediately and after two more attempts, Dean realizes he's getting nowhere fast. He then recalls her house phone at her grandmother's place and tries that with what little hope he has left that she'll pick up and listen, even believe him. He just needs to hear her voice. That one word that he did hear, hello, wasn't nearly enough. He dials her other number with his dirt-caked index finger and waits impatiently as the line rings.

"Hello?" an unknown man's voice answer. His heart drops when he hears it, not prepared for a man to pick up her line. Who the fuck is that?

"Lizzy," he chokes out, his voice still raw from lack of use. "I need to talk to Lizzy."

"Ah, I think you have the wrong number."

"What?" He knows her numbers, both of them, by heart. He knows this is her house.

"Maybe you're trying to reach the girl who used to live here. She moved out months ago."

Moved? Why would she move? Where is she?

"Do you know where she's living now?"

"Oh, no, I'm sorry."

Dean hangs up the phone with frustration. Fuck, he can't reach her at all, has no idea where she is. This isn't good. Hopefully Sam will know. Dean drops more coins into the payphone and tries his brother's cell.

* * *

Sam had to take a walk to get out. Ruby's been annoying the shit out of him and today, well today was not a day in which he was willing to deal with  _anyone's_ annoying shit. He walks down the street of the small town they're currently in, the town he isn't really sure the name of, looking around without focusing on anything and his hands shoved in his jean pockets. Some demon was in the area and Ruby swears he knows where Lilith is. Already having gone up against her and failed miserably, Sam feels he's ready now, his confidence on high, and is itching for another chance at the evil bitch.

Four ridiculously long months since Dean's been gone and Sam is still a crumbling, aimless mess. He's stronger, sure, and a better hunter than he's ever been, but his emotional state was nowhere near stable, or even manageable. He's angry. Fucking furious. All the damn time too. Without Dean to keep him in check and at an even keel, it was impossible to put the things that made him mad in the proper perspective. It makes him wonder how Lizzy's been able to keep her own rage problem in line.

Sam takes a seat on a bench outside a small diner and pulls out his phone. He hasn't talked to Lizzy yet today and he knows he needs to. She's probably a disaster by now, shitfaced for sure and wallowing in her sadness. Sam presses speed dial number three and waits, noticing the small liquor store across the street. He decides to stop there once he's done talking to Lizzy. The line never rings. Instead he hears the automatic recording for her voicemail. Weird, he thinks. She never had her phone off, especially on bad days.

"Hey," Sam begins to leave her a message. "Uh, I just wanted to check on you. Maybe tell you where I was and see if you're ok today. I know it's hard and you probably don't want to talk, especially since your phone's off, but call me back if you need to. You know I'm here for you and the day hasn't been great for me either." Sam sighs loudly, hating admitting his emotional weakness to anyone, even Lizzy. "It would be good to hear your voice. Love ya', Lizzy."

He hangs up and worries a little more. Sam wanted to talk to her, hear her voice and take comfort in it as much as he could. Her not answering unnerves him completely and leaves him concerned like a father whose daughter is late for curfew. Something felt wrong, very wrong.

This is irony at its best, he thinks to himself as he stands to cross the street. He's getting worked up because Lizzy this one time didn't answer her phone. Sam would disappear for days, weeks, months on end without ever thinking about this side of it. He feels that nagging guilt creep back and for a split second he considers calling Bobby when he hears his phone ring. He answers it without looking, assuming he knows who's on the other end.

"Hey," he says with a smile, relieved that Lizzy's calling him back.

"Get your ass back here," Ruby demands. "I know where that demon is."

"Yeah…" Sam trails off, tone low and filled with disappointment. He hangs up and sighs loudly. Wrong woman. He hopes Lizzy is ok and getting through the day well enough as he drags his tired and drained ass back to the motel. Maybe exorcizing a demon will make him feel better and if not, he knows where he can go to purchase the booze to make the day bearable… or disappear into blackness at least.

* * *

"I'm not a demon either, you know," Dean explains with slight irritation as the holy water beads off of his face.

"Sorry," Bobby apologizes with a shrug. "Can't be too careful."

"It's fine," Dean brushes off while picking up a towel he finds on the table. Bobby did the right thing in testing him, making sure he's really Dean.

"This don't make a lick of sense," Bobby tells Dean as he walks into the study, the recently risen man following close behind as he towels off with the dish rag.

"Yeah, you're preaching to the choir," Dean responds, just as, if not more, freaked out than the older hunter by his own walking, talking presence on Earth.

"Dean, your chest was ribbons, your insides were slop, and you've been buried for four months. Even if you could slip outta hell and back inta yer meat suit…"

"I know, I should look like a Thriller video reject"

"What do you remember?" Bobby questions.

"Not much," Dean begins. "I remember I was a hellhound's chew toy and then lights out. Then I come to six feet under and that's it." Lying is way easier than explaining to Bobby just how much he does remember… which is all of it. Every horrid, gory detail and all the awful, despicable things he's done. He doesn't know how long he'll be able to hold onto all the horror, but he'll try for as long as he can to keep it to himself. This is not something you unleash on others.

Bobby contemplates what he considers is good news as he takes a seat behind his desk.

"Sam's number is not working. He's a, he's not…" Dean can't finish the question, the words too terrifying to speak.

"He's alive as far as I know," Bobby tells him. He hasn't heard from Lizzy about Sam in a while so who knows honestly.

"Good," Dean responds before realizing what Bobby's said. "Wait, what do you mean as far as you know?"

"I haven't talked to him for months."

"You're kidding? You just let him go off by himself?" Dean's surprised to hear that Bobby hasn't kept on Sam's ass. He always assumed that once he was gone Bobby would take over for him.

"He was dead set on it," Bobby tries to explain, knowing it isn't a good enough answer for Dean.

"Bobby, you should have been looking after him."

"I tried. The last months haven't been exactly easy you know, for any of us. First Lou, then you… damn it, Dean. We had to bury you. Sam had to tell Lizzy you were gone."

Dean's face wrinkles and he shakes his head with the thought. He feels bad that Sam had to do that and knows how hard it must have been. There's no way Lizzy took that news well. It's then that another question that had been lingering on his mind is brought up. "Why did you bury me, anyway?

"I wanted you salted and burned, usual drill, but Sam wouldn't have it."

"Well, I'm glad he won that one."

"He said you'd need a body when he got you back home somehow. That's 'bout all he said."

"What do you mean?"

"He was quiet, real quiet. Soon as you were in the ground he drove to Lizzy's to tell her in person before he just took off. Wouldn't return any of my calls. I tried to find him but didn't want to be found. Somehow Lizzy kept in touch with him, got him to at least answer her calls every great now and then."

"She did?" The corners of Dean's mouth turn slightly up with the news. He's glad someone could get through to Sam, and really glad it was her. She was always extremely understanding, something he knows Sam must have needed these past few months.

"Yeah. Don't know how, though. He really wanted to vanish."

"Ah, damn it Sammy," Dean complains as he begins putting the puzzle together.

"What?"

"Oh, he got me home ok, but whatever he did it is bad mojo."

"What makes you so sure?"

"You shoulda seen the grave site," Dean begins explaining. "It was like a nuke went off. Then there was this force, this presence, I don't know but it, it blew past me at a Phillip joint." Dean pauses as he get gets ready to show Bobby the frightening leftovers. "And then this," he says while rolling up his sleeve to reveal the handprint burnt into the skin over his shoulder.

"What in the hell?" Bobby asks while walking closer, inspecting the shocking disfigurement.

"It's like a demon yanked me out, or rode me out."

"But why?"

"To hold up their end of the bargain," Dean tells him, sure he's figured out what must have happened.

"You think Sam made a deal?"

"It's what I would have done." He rolls down his sleeve and looks over to Bobby once more. "Where is she, Bobby? She answered her cell when I called but hung right up, just like you did. Then she didn't pick up after that."

"Lizzy's still in Massachusetts," Bobby explains. "And if anyone knows where Sasquatch is, it's her. Like I said, she's the only one who's gotten through that thick skull of his."

"Good," Dean breathes out a sigh at the information and smiles a little. He takes comfort in the fact that she tried to take both Dean and Lou's place as much as she could. His heart swells and the need to get to her grows even stronger. "Call her. She won't talk to me for obvious reasons. Ask her where Sam is." He still needs to get to Sam first. Lizzy is strong and he has faith that she'll be alright. But Sam, not so much. "Just… don't tell her I'm here, ok? Not yet."

"Yeah," Bobby agrees as he dials her number.

Dean looks around the house quickly while waiting for Lizzy to answer. He picks up one of the many empty whiskey bottles. "Hey, Bobby? What's the deal with the liquor store? You're parents out of town or something?"

"Like I said, last few months ain't been all that easy," Bobby explains sadly as the call goes straight to voicemail. "Shit."

"What?"

"Voicemail. Didn't even ring."

"Try Sam," Dean demands in an even tone.

"He won't answer," Bobby warns, having done this drill too many times to think the outcome would be different.

"Try him anyways," Dean booms. "You have to try. Please."

Bobby dials the number and, just like always, he eventually just gets Sam's voicemail. Bobby hangs up without leaving a message, knowing it wouldn't do any good, and shakes his head no.

"Alright, then pack up some shit and let's go," Dean demands while walking towards the front door.

"Dean, take some time here for a second. Get in a shower, eat something, or maybe grab a good night's sleep." Bobby doesn't need this kid running around just yet. Who knows what he's seen, been through, any of it.

"No," Dean refuses. "I need to get to Lizzy first. Then, I'll deal with the rest."

Seeing the look in Dean's eyes and the tone in his voice, Bobby knows there's no reasoning with him at this moment. He's ready to go. Bobby doesn't blame him in the least, either. He knows the love Dean has for that girl and there's nothing that can stop him from getting to her. Apparently not even hell.

"Alright, give me a couple a' minutes," Bobby asks of his son as he trudges upstairs to put some things together for the trip. It'll take a full day easy to get there driving straight through and Dean's going to need some clothes too. And food and water, he assumes. He packs everything up and, even though the whole thing is disturbing to say the least, Bobby smiles to himself. Sure, Sam probably sold his soul for his brother, or something huge, really fucking huge, is going on to raise Dean like this, but the silver lining is still there. His son is back. He isn't being tormented every day or slowly being turned into something Bobby himself would have to someday kill. He's back and at the moment, that's all that matters.

* * *

 


	11. September 19th: Reunited and it Feels So Good

**September _19_ _th_ _, 2008_**

* * *

 

Work sucks, Lizzy thinks as she gets dressed for the early shift at the bar. She loved her job, but some days it felt like such a heavy burden to pretend to be normal and happy. Today was one of those days.

Luckily she got in some time at the self-defense center that morning and did what she could to beat away the pain of yesterday. She still isn't sure if she's going nuts or what, but that voice over the phone still haunts her. It was him, she knows it, but was it real is the true question.

She drops her new cell phone into her purse and makes a mental note to call both Bobby and Sam tonight. They must be worried about her after not getting a hold of her on such a difficult day.

Boobs pushed up and in full effect (for the assurance of good tips, of course), she pulls on her v-neck black t-shirt followed by tight, light blue jeans. She's just about to put on her red cowboy boots when the doorbell rings. Certainly not expecting company, Lizzy leaves her boots on the floor of her bedroom and flies down the stairs. Just being able to make out the trucker hat through the stained glass window of the door, she forgoes reaching into the small bureau by the entrance for a weapon and hurriedly unlocks the front door.

"Bobby!" Lizzy smiles widely and jumps up onto him in a tight hug. He is standing ready for her in the screened-in porch. He shouldn't be startled by her excited reaction as she's always been over the top with her emotions, both good and bad, but he still is. It's been so long since they've seen each other that they're elated to do so now.

"Hi Lizzy," Bobby grins right back. Sure, there are some serious matters at hand, but he takes a moment to enjoy seeing her. He's missed her terribly, even though they talk all the time on the phone. It wasn't the same as actually seeing her.

"I've missed you, man!" Lizzy tells him brightly as she lets go and looks up at the bearded man she sees as a father.

"You too, kiddo. You know that. How are you?"

"Getting ready for work," she tells him.

"You look good… a little too thin though," he observes. He worries that she hasn't been eating. For her, not eating is about as serious a sign as anything.

"Well, you know…" she waves off, not wanting to get into that discussion right away. Happy greetings now, fatherly advice and guilt-trips later.

"Lizzy, we need to talk." Bobby's face turns serious and Lizzy's stomach drops.

"Aw crap. Shoulda known you wouldn't come all this way just to say hey. What's wrong?" Lizzy wonders as she backs up through the doorway to let him in. At the same moment, someone opens the porch door and walks through, causing Lizzy's eyes to bulge out of their sockets. She's stock still, heart immediately racing, sure now that she's really going insane with what she sees.

"L," Dean calls to her and stands in place a couple feet from the front entrance, waiting for her reaction. He knows people will need a moment to adjust to seeing him as he's supposed to be in hell, so he gives her time. He'd be freaked to high hell too.

"I'm so fucked," Lizzy whispers to Bobby without taking her eyes off of Dean. "I'm seeing Dean right now, Bobby. Shit, I'm going crazy for good." Her face twists with the realization that she's slowly descending into madness and presses her palm to her forehead.

"Lizzy, it's me," Dean quietly says while cautiously taking a step toward her. He just wants to run to her, hold her, but he knows he can't. He'll either traumatize her or she'll kick his ass thinking it isn't actually him.

"No fucking way," she responds, backing up to the bureau she now regrets forgoing moments before.

"Lizzy, hon, it's really him," Bobby tries to calmly explain while walking through the door and reaching for her.

"That's impossible," she whispers, lip quivering and tears threatening. "Who the fuck are you!" she yells suddenly while aiming the gun she stealthfully grabbed from its hiding place by the door between the look-a-like's eyes. There is no way it's him.

"Jesus, Lizzy," Bobby says as he reaches for the gun. Lizzy pushes him away and Bobby hits the wall of the foyer with some force. She may not have been hunting, but she kept up on some things. Her strength and agility just happened to be some of those things.

"Whatever you are, you're gonna regret taking  _that_  fucking form, you piece of shit," Lizzy threatens, aim retrained.

"L, calm down. I promise, it's me," Dean takes two more slow, extremely cautious steps forward.

"Yeah, well I have about eight silver bullets in this fucking bitch that say differently," Lizzy remarks while taking off the safety. "What the fuck are you?" she demands in a loud, stern voice.

"L... don't make me do this," Dean says as he reaches out, ready to do what he must to ensure his own safety. He clearly has to stop her from doing something stupid. Making quick eye contact with Bobby, he shakes the older hunter off. He can handle this one on his own.

"Don't call me that you son of a bitch," Lizzy warns as tears start to fall and her heart aches when she hears the nickname again. She closes her eyes briefly with the emotional pain and it's then that Dean takes advantage. He quickly reaches out and takes the gun from her. Tossing it to Bobby quickly, his eyes leave her for a split second and she pounces on the opportunity. She strikes fast, hitting him with the open heel of her palm squarely in the side of his ribs like she had practiced with Mike.

"Fuck off or I'll make you regret not listening," she warns, taking a ready stance that tells Dean she's kept up on her skills… and informs him of the ass whooping he's about to receive.

"Lizzy, c'mon!" he gasps out, holding a hand to his side where she hit him. "I swear it's me!"

"Bullshit!" she yells, taking another swing but before she can land the blow he ducks to avoid it and quickly grasps her wrists, attempting to restrain her.

"Let go!" she demands, looking to Bobby for help and gets nothing in return. "Really!" she shouts to the older man, upset that Bobby is falling for whatever game this creature is playing. She's on her own and she knows it now.

"I ran the tests!" Bobby shouts to reassure her. "Silver, holy water, salt, the whole nine. It's Dean!"

"Lizzy, stop it! Listen to me!" Dean shouts out and fights against her. Accepting that her arms are now useless, she brings her right leg to the side and sweeps it under him with all the power she could muster, striking the back of his knees and making them buckle. Dean lands hard on his back on the hardwood flooring and Lizzy falls with him as he never let go of his hold on her wrists. Crashing on top of him, she moves hurriedly, sitting atop his chest and yanking her elbows behind her as hard as she can. He can't keep his hold on her with the forceful movement and her arms are freed.

"Now I'm sure you're not him," she quips while landing a punch just to the side of his left eye. Dean groans with the pain as his head whips to the side and before he can regain his wits Lizzy has his arms pinned to his sides underneath her knees. She puts her full weight on his forearms, digging them into the floor and ensuring that he isn't going anywhere while she reaches out for a knife from the small set of drawers she grabbed her gun from. "Dean would _never_  underestimate me like you just did. Now, you're fucked."

"Lizzy, knock it off," Bobby yells while running over, locking his arms around her and preventing her from taking up the silver knife she was reaching for. "It's Dean!  _Our_  Dean!" He pulls her off of him until she's standing and forces her to face him. "Don't you trust me!"

"With my life!" she shouts back in all honesty. "But I don't trust  _that_ thing!" She points to the floor where she had just left Dean's twin and realizes it is now empty. The… whatever it is… is now standing and pulling her from Bobby's grasp. Dean pushes her backwards by her shoulders until she hits the stairs, losing her balance as she does and falling back until she's seated on the second to last one. Dean drops to his knees in front of her and grabs her upper arms, forcing her to stay seated and look him in the eye.

"Shit," she sobs out as their eyes meet. It's his beautiful green eyes that look back at her and her heart can't take any more. It's been miserable and impossible enough. This is too much. "Just get it over with."

"What?" Dean asks with confusion, searching her face for answers.

"Just fucking kill me already," she cries. "I give up."

"L…"

"It's too fucking much, I can't do this anymore!" she says while breaking down completely. "Go ahead. Do me the favor."

The painful show is too damn much to handle. Dean cups her face gently in his hands and looks at her. "Look in my eyes and tell me that you don't see me, the _real_  me." He challenges her, makes her actually see him, but it does nothing. She just sobs harder when she really takes in the sight of him. He tries again. "L, I love you," he says quietly before moving in to kiss her. The second their lips meet, Lizzy jumps at the contact, the familiar, heated, loving contact she knows better than anything else in the world. Dean pulls away, not wanting to overdo it. Her breathing is erratic and her mouth is dropped open with shock.

"Oh my God," she sighs out between sobs. "It's you."

"I've been trying to tell you," Dean says with a small smile.

Lizzy grabs the back of his head and pulls him back in, kissing him desperately. This is real, it's all real. He's here. He came back to her.

"It's you!" she shouts again and wraps her arms around his neck, clutching to him and letting the wonderful feeling overcome her. She cries for the millionth time this year, but for once she cries with complete and utter happiness. She shakes in his arms, defeated by her emotions.

"You were always with me," he tells her with his face buried in her neck. His own tears fall when he himself is overwhelmed by the moment. Forty years of sheer torture and he'd do it again as long as he could be with her. "I never stopped thinking about you. Never."

"Me neither," she continues to sob and keeps her iron clad hold on him, not willing to let go for even a second, fearful that this isn't real. "Not once." She pushes off of the step and presses into him, both propped up on their knees and arms intertwined. It's awkward and uncomfortable and so necessary.

She backs up just enough to clutch is face in her hands and kiss him again. She couldn't stop herself. The feel of him, it was real, she wasn't crazy after all. "I tried," she confesses between kisses, needing to let him know she did her best to keep that vow she made to him. "So hard… I did, I promise… I just couldn't." She kisses his cheeks, eyelids, freckle-covered nose, everything she always worked so hard to remember clearly.

"Doesn't matter," Dean tells her before pressing his lips to hers. "That doesn't matter, L." She was everything he needed, everything he dreamed about while down there and he knows in his heart that it's the only thing that kept him glued together and at least a little bit human.

Bobby stays quiet and washes a hand down his face to get rid of the evidence. If there were a single man on Earth who wouldn't be completely moved by what he's witnessing, then that was a man without a heart. Good things happening aren't the norm for Bobby, so this, well, this is complete bliss, happiness at its purest, and he's emotional to say the least.

Lizzy crumples to the floor, sitting on the hard wood and sobs out her overjoyed feelings. She reaches up and grabs onto Dean's jacket, and he takes a seat facing her. She leans her head onto his chest and lets his arms encircle her.

"I love you," she tells him again as the sobbing starts to subside a little and Dean smiles for the first time since he dug himself out of the ground. "More than anything. More than life."

"Feels so damn good to hear you say that," Dean tells her, his cheek resting on top of her head, the cherry-vanilla smell of her shampoo making him feel at home just like it used to.

"How?" she asks thought the cloth of his shirt. "How is this happening?" She looks up with her reddened eyes, dark black eyeliner streaking her cheeks. She's baffled, the events being so beyond any form of normal reasoning, or hunter's reasoning for that matter.

"Honestly don't know," he truthfully says. "I was just… suddenly back. No idea who did it or how. Best guess, Sam might of…"

"No!" she interrupts him, shaking her head. "No way. He tried but he couldn't bring you back. Been completely torn up about it since you…."

"Then I got nothing," he says with a furrowed brow.

"Maybe it doesn't matter." She reaches up and runs a hand through his hair and down the side of his face. He leans into her touch involuntarily. "I mean, you're here. Really, actually here. Gift horse, right?"

Dean doesn't answer her, knowing that it does in fact matter a lot why he's back and how it happened. Who knows what could do something like that. It's terrifying to think about because this thing could want him, be after him. The mysterious circumstances around this whole situation are intimidating. But right now, Dean stops and thanks his lucky fucking stars as he pulls her close again and holds her, realizing that this was never supposed to happen. He was never supposed to see her, feel her, or be able to tell her he loves her again. The rest can wait for just a little bit longer.

* * *

"Uh, Lizzy?" Dean asks as he stops dead at the top of the stairs. Lizzy, who had led him into the apartment after their emotional reunion and was holding his hand, yanks his arm as she continues to move forward. She stops when he pulls her back to get her attention and now she turns to him with a confused expression.

"What?"

"I don't know…" Dean trails off as he looks around the apartment. Something feels familiar about the place, eerily familiar. "I've been here before?" he questions.

"Doubt it," Lizzy tells him, concern written all over her face with his odd reaction to her new home. "I just moved here."

"No, I know I've been here before," Dean tells her as he turns around, his eyes searching the place frantically. "With dad. Wow! That sounds really weird."

"You sure that hell didn't Gallagher your watermelon?" Bobby asks worried.

"No, Bobby, I'm fine I just… I've seen this place before." Dean closes his eyes with the confusion he's feeling and his memory flashes scenes of himself coming through the downstairs doorway, Lizzy dancing in lingerie, and his father smiling warmly. "Oh shit." Dean rolls his eyes as he puts it all together.

"What?" Lizzy quickly asks, bringing a hand to the side of his face and staring deeply into his eyes, trying the gage what the hell is happening with him. "What is it?"

"You remember that dream?" Dean asks her and he gets a confused look in return. "In your grandmother's house. We both had it."

"Yeah, kind of," Lizzy tells him. "I remember John was in it and it was your birthday."

"And we were here. L, that dream happened here," Dean says with wide eyes. He looks to the open space next to them at the tops of the stairs. "There was a bar right here. And you left me a note and a beer on it."

"Whoa," Lizzy says with shock and brings her hand to her mouth when the memories come back. "Holy shit! And I was in the door way…" she turns to look down the open hallway and points. "Over there, waiting for you to get home!"

"Yes!" Dean exclaims loudly, glad she's on board with him and he isn't losing it.

"What the fuck is going on here?" Bobby questions them both.

"Wish I knew…" Lizzy says. "Although it makes me feel better. When I first came to check the place out I had, like, déjà vu and felt oddly at home instantly. And for some reason unknown to me then, it made me think of you being in here." She looks to Dean with a slight smile.

"Guess dad knew a lot more than he let on, huh?" Dean says. It makes him wonder about the future. In the dream he was living there with her, he had a regular job, they were normal people. Was that something in store for them? Was that where their lives were actually headed? The idea is just too hopeful and Dean pushes it aside.

"I'd say so," Bobby responds, thinking he would love to research what exactly it is these two experienced that can be a look into the future and bring back the dead. Whatever it is, they need to understand it.

"Alright, I'm gonna say we file this one away for a minute," Lizzy says. "Bigger fish to fry right now. And I need to call Sam."

"Yes," Dean says quickly at the mention of his brother. "Call him. Now, please."

* * *

_Damn it, Sam-I-Am! Answer your phone! 911 dude. Something's happened, something huge. Not telling you over voicemail. We need you. Call me! Love ya'._

Sam ends the call and sighs. Whatever Lizzy has gotten herself into, it sounds bad. And we? Who's we? He begins packing up his things, readying himself to check out and start the long drive to her apartment based on her tone of voice alone. Something is wrong, very wrong. Lizzy hasn't once called on him like this before, not since Dean was gone.

"Where the hell are you off to?" Ruby asks as she walks into the motel room and watches him fly around gathering his things.

"Massachusetts," Sam tells her. "Lizzy called."

"And?"

"She needs me," Sam state simply. "Have to get to her."

"Well, what's going on?"

"Not sure. She didn't say." Sam picks up his fully packed duffel, slings it over his shoulder and reaches for the keys.

"So you're bailing on me so that you can go help Lizzy and you don't even know what she needs help with?" Ruby asks incredulously. "Sam, that's crazy. We're so close to our goal and you need to keep training. You're almost ready and leaving could…"

"Stop," Sam loudly demands. "Doesn't matter. If Lizzy says she needs me, then I'm going."

"What the fuck, Sam!" Ruby shouts as she watches him walk to the door. "Get your priorities straight."

"They're straight, trust me," Sam says in a serious tone. She better tread lightly here.

"This is crazy! She's just the chick that your brother was banging before he went to hell."

"Ruby…" Sam warns but she doesn't take it.

"You act like she's your family or something. Open your eyes Sam! You barely see her or talk to her! I'm the one who's been around, looking after you! You need to be here!"

Sam pauses and turns on his heel, glaring at her as he does. The insulting words that come from her cut deep and make him irate.

"You are way out of line here, Ruby," Sam grits out as he takes three long strides and stand before her, leaning down so their eyes are level and just inches apart. His voice is low and drips with danger as he continues. "You know nothing about Lizzy and who she is to me. And she  _is_ my fucking family. Clearly you don't know what that word means."

"So then educate me," Ruby challenges, not backing down from the furious man ten times her size though her eyes betray her. She is a little fearful in the moment.

"Fuck you," Sam tells her off and turns to leave. He grabs the door handle and stops before opening it. "Family isn't defined by just blood. It's defined by love. Lizzy has been there for me without question and without second thought since the day Dean died, no matter how shitty I've been to her in return. I owe her everything. She's my sister, my  _real_ sister," Sam says with fire in his words while opening the door. "Now you know."

He slams it forcefully behind him. He's beyond words. Ruby saved his life and has helped him find a way to get his ultimate revenge, but this was not right. She still never knew when to shut her mouth.

Dropping his bag in the trunk first, Sam then gets into the Impala and starts her up. He thinks about calling her back now, but he's too angry to talk. Sam decides to head out, drive for a while and clear his head, before he talks to her. He's on his way anyways. Calling her sooner rather than later won't change much.

* * *

"No answer, but he'll call back," Lizzy informs Dean as they sit on her couch, hand in hand and sitting right up against each other, Lizzy with her legs tucked underneath her. They've been constantly connected, not willing to part at all. It just felt way too good to separate themselves. Dean's eyes haven't left hers for more than a couple of seconds at a time, studying her as he tries his best to take her in. It had been forty years without Lizzy and he just can't stop staring, admiring, and making sure he didn't forget a single detail that whole time.

"How do you know?" Dean questions, worried that Sam won't call back soon enough for his impatient liking.

"He always does. And he knows better than to not call me back," Lizzy smiles out slightly while squeezing his hand tighter. She puts her cell phone on the coffee table in front of her and then turns back to Dean, lightly running her fingers over the already bruising spot off to the side of his eye where she clocked him good. "Sorry about hitting you like that."

"It's fine," Dean smiles. "If you didn't attack like you did, I'd be disappointed in you."

Lizzy laughs quietly, knowing how true his words are. She knows he must have expected to get a little roughed up.

"Thank you for doing what you could with Sam, L," Dean says with all sincerity. "I know it hasn't been easy on either of you, but I really appreciate that you got him to keep in contact."

"Guilt's a hell of a thing," Bobby comments from the recliner he's sitting in. "Still don't know what you did or said to that boy, but ya' got through to him. S'all that matters."

"Just told him the truth. He was all I had left beside you, Bobby, and I wasn't willing to lose him," Lizzy looks down at her hand intertwined with Dean's. "Plus, I promised him to not nag and pry too much. He needed space and I gave it. Over time I proved I was telling the truth and he trusted me completely."

"What's he been up to then?" Dean wonders.

"Wouldn't know," she partially lies to him and Dean's face twists with worry. She knows he's after Lilith, Dean probably does too, but she waits for Sam to have that conversation. She doesn't want to speak for him. Lizzy leans over and kisses Dean quickly, looking to help ease his mind, but the fire behind their embrace rears its head. That desire is still there, that crazy connection as Dean had once called it, and they're only holding back because of their father-figure sitting in the corner.

"Bobby?" Dean breaks in when they end their very quick but very passion filled kiss. "Do you think I could have some time with Lizzy to talk? Some things I need to tell her and it's kinda weird with dad in the room." He shares a lopsided smile and hopes he isn't being too obvious.

Bobby's formerly concerned look melts into a loving one at Dean's words. He referred to him as dad and that was something else to hear. Granted he meant it in an overbearing, half-insulting, let-us-kids-be-kids kind of way, but still it was nice to hear.

"I'll go grab some dinner or something… maybe stop by that bar and let them know you aren't coming in?" Bobby suggests to Lizzy.

"Shit, that's right," Lizzy says, remembering she was supposed to be at work in about two minutes. "Thanks Bobby. I appreciate that." She really did adore his kind gesture, though she's sure that she'll lose her job over this. Oh well, she can sling booze somewhere else. This is much, much more important right now.

"Alright, see you kids in a little bit," Bobby waves as he leaves the room. Once they hear the front door close, they practically launch themselves onto each other, not willing or able to hold back any longer.

"Thank fucking God," Lizzy lets outs while she scrambles onto Dean's lap, her hands reaching to the back of his head and her lips colliding onto his while she adjusts herself so that she had a knee on each side of his hips. Keeping her need at bay was getting pretty damn difficult and getting Bobby out of her apartment was all she had wanted but didn't have the heart to do.

"What you said," Dean sighs out while looking up into Lizzy's eyes and pulling her down to kiss her again. He doesn't deserve this at all, he's well aware, but in the moment it's pretty hard to find that guilt he's supposed to be experiencing. After thirty years of pain and horror maybe he did earn this moment, he thinks briefly while trying to justify his actions. Lizzy hums her love and want against his lips and the internal battle gets easier. But still, the whole thing nags at him.

"Hey," Lizzy stops and looks at him, sensing something is very off. "What's wrong?"

Unsure of how to answer her, Dean pauses and looks away. How does someone explain what he did? It was awful and disgusting and she would never look at him the same.

"Dean, hey," she soothes and cups his face, making him look at her as she studies him. "Talk to me here."

"Not sure what to even say," Dean quietly says as she dips down to kiss him again.

"You're different," she tells him against his lips.

"No shit." Seemed obvious to him.

"No, I mean you're definitely you. You're my Dean in there, I can tell when you kiss me. But you're sad, burdened, and… guilty maybe. You've changed."

"That's putting it very lightly," Dean explains, blown away by her reading him so easily.

"I would never expect you not to change having been through what you have. No one could ever pretend to know or understand what you've experienced. I'm just trying to figure out  _how_  you've changed."

"You don't want to know," Dean tells her, low voiced and filled with shame. His lip quivers as he tries to keep it together.

"Probably not," Lizzy agrees. "But I do want to help you so therefore I want to know."

"L, I can't…" Dean shakes his head and fights the urge to release it on her. "It's too much."

"Well, it isn't too much for me," Lizzy tells him while knitting her brow together, witnessing his internal struggle. "You tell me what you can when you can. Just know I'll never turn you away. I'll never not listen to it all, not matter how awful. I'd do anything for you and you deserve that kind of support."

"No I don't," Dean tells her, tears falling. "I don't deserve anything good. Not a damn thing. I've done some… terrible things."

"What?" Lizzy is confused by his statement. What could he have done? He's been in hell being tortured. "I don't understand."

"You couldn't," Dean says and finally breaks down. He hangs his head when he feels himself succumb to it all and Lizzy, torn apart by his utterly devastated state, wraps him up in her arms and holds on tight, his head in her neck. "I remember it all. Every second of every horrible day. There aren't words, L. Not for what I've seen, what I've felt."

Lizzy's own tears begin to form as she listens to him. He's been completely broken down and destroyed by his experience. This man who used to be stronger than any other person she's ever met, the man who faced every challenge head on and fought fiercely without end for the ones closest to him and the safety of innocence, is no longer that person. He's weakened and, even though he's made it out, he's not all back. She can feel it.

"I'll never understand," she whispers quietly, making sure he knows she doesn't trivialize any of the past four months. "You're right. I couldn't. I just want to help..."

Lizzy's cell phone rings, interrupting her thoughts and making Dean's head shoot up with hope. Without getting up from her place on his lap, she reaches to the coffee table and grabs her phone. She smiles slightly to Dean and wipes away her tears before answering.

"Hi Sam," Lizzy says once she answers the call, never taking her eyes off of Dean.

"Hey, I'm on my way," Sam tells her quickly as she can clearly make out the rumble of the Impala's engine in the background. "Should be there by ten. What's the emergency?"

"I can't really explain it to you over the phone," Lizzy slowly says while narrowing her eyes at Dean as he looks up with excitement. To say he's dying to see his brother would be an understatement. "Just believe me, it's really important that you get here. Call me when you're close?"

"Lizzy, wait…"

"I know you want more info, Sam, but you're gonna have to trust me here. Just like I've trusted you for the past four months. Call me when you're almost here, ok?" Lizzy asks, knowing the guilt trip will work, just like it always does.

"You're a pain in the ass, you know that?" Sam asks with all seriousness.

"Love you too, Sam-I-Am," she slightly smiles and hangs up on him.

"He coming?" Dean asks quickly and impatiently.

"He's already on his way. Should be here in a few hours." Lizzy tosses her phone back onto the small table and returns her attention fully to Dean. "You ready to get attacked by another hunter who thinks you're a shapeshifter? Or demon? Or revenant? Or…"

"I get the point, and no," Dean answers truthfully.

"Well Bobby and I'll have your back either way. I'll talk to him first, see if that helps," Lizzy tells him before leaning down and kissing him once more before remembering something.

"Mmm," Lizzy hums out and pulls back, pressing her index finger to his lips to get him to pause. "I have something for you, something you might want back." She stands up off of him and leaves the room, Dean following close on her heels. She walks into her bedroom, reaches into her unmade bed and pulls out the cherished item Sam bestowed upon her months ago. Holding it tightly in her hands one last time, knowing she'll miss the comfort it's come to bring her, she extends her arm and offers it back over. "Sam had me hold onto it for you."

"Oh, yeah," Dean grins just slightly as he recognizes his father's jacket. Taking it from her hand, he feels the worn leather in his fingers and looks back up to her with a questioning look. Having watched her take the jacket out of her bed, he's now a little curious. She purses her lips, embarrassed somewhat.

"Slept with it every night," she explains while the pink blush sweeps her cheeks. "Smelled like you."

Dean closes the space between them and hugs her tight, knowing the toll this whole thing has taken on her. It was unfair.

"I just missed you so much," she says while leaning into him.

"I'm sorry I put you through that," he tells her. "It's my fault."

"Shut it," Lizzy says while looking up at him. "You did what you had to. And what does it matter now? You're here. That's all  _I_  care about." Pressing up on her tiptoes, Lizzy kisses him again. "At least one of you has come back to me. You came home."

* * *

 


	12. September 19th: Brothers in Arms

**_September 19th, 2008 (Continued)_ **

* * *

 

"I don't think this was what dad had in mind when he gave me this," Dean comments while lying on his back next to Lizzy in her bed and wearing his leather jacket… and only his leather jacket.

"Told ya' I got used to sleeping with it, didn't I?" Lizzy laughs while rolling on top of him. She knows she probably should have held off, let him at least adjust to being back in the real world and all, and if she could have stopped herself, she would have. It was an impossible task. It was Dean after all. They fucked even when Lou was a missing vampire so what chance did hell have of stopping them? Not much of one, apparently. "You look good like this. Should walk around in just that jacket all the time." She smiles and kisses him quickly, hands splayed out on his chest and the rest of her body pressed against his.

"But how would I keep the hordes of women away then?" Dean grins, letting himself get lost in the easy and happy moment.

"Easy.  I'll kick their asses if they come near you," she promises, kissing his neck once.  She says into his ear before biting his earlobe playfully, "You're all mine."

"Hey, I'm cool with that," he swears as she curls up into his side.  He isn't sure why it is that they had this effect on each other, the ability to ignore the insane shit that is the rest of the world and get lost in the ease of being just them, but right now he basks in it. It's all he's needed.  

Dean begins studying her left arm as it's draped over his torso, taking in the familiar artwork covering it.

"No new tats, huh?"

"Nah." Lizzy simply responds while watching him scan over her sleeve.

"I thought by now you'd have something for Lou on there. Maybe me even…."

"Lou I haven't been able to find the right way to honor yet. I was thinking about doing her favorite sawed-off on my forearm and have the date she died etched into the wooden handle."

"That would be perfect for her."

"Yeah, but I'm not settled on it just yet. Not totally sure."  Lizzy sighs.  "And as for you... I never considered getting one."

"Ouch!" Dean says, honestly hurt that she wouldn't want to represent him on her arm like she did every other meaningful thing and person.

"No, no! I mean I just never let myself get to that point. I never let myself fully come to terms with it being over, you being gone.  Hurt too much." Her expressions gives away just how tough it has been for her. "Guess it's a good thing I didn't, huh?"

"Yeah," Dean answers back sadly.

"So are we gonna talk about that lovely new tattoo of your own you're rocking?"

"Oh, you noticed that, huh?" Dean jokingly questions. How could she have missed it?

"How could I have missed it?" Dean rolls his eyes at her once more speaking his mind. "That thing is… big. And nasty."

"Don't know. Just came out of the ground with it." Lizzy pushes the shoulder of his coat aside and studied the handprint, running her fingers lightly over the rough and raised skin before covering it over with her hand exactly.

"Does it hurt?"

"Nah. Just feels like any other scar. Looks like it hurt at the time, now it's just a part of me."

"Yeah, ah," Lizzy adds in. "Speaking of any other scars, what the fuck happened to all of yours? You look like you've never been in a fight in your life. Honestly, it's a turn off. You look like a freakin' pansy."

"Pansy huh?" he questions her and she just wags her eyebrows in return, kissing him once more as an apology for name-calling. "No idea. I'm smooth as a baby's ass. It's like I've never done a damn thing in my life. Like my slate was wiped clean."

"Wiped clean, huh?" Lizzy wonder out loud at his comment.

"Uh-huh," he answers, eyes narrowed as he knows she's hinting at something.

"How clean a slate are we talking here?" Lizzy asks, making a certain implication.

"Uh…" Dean begins with curiosity. "Don't think I'm following."

"Dean, honey, were you a virgin until just now?" she asks with a patronizing tone and huge grin.

"Oh yeah, you know me. Saving my most precious gift," Dean sarcastically jokes but then ponders the question a little more. "You know, it kinda makes sense. I mean, shit, I was healed up in every aspect of the word. I was probably rehymenated." He smiles wide with the ridiculous idea.

"What an undertaking," Lizzy jokes. "I can't believe I just popped you're cherry!" She laughs loudly at the thought. "Well, I'll consider myself proud to be your first… or second first. Or millionth first, really." She winks to him and Dean smirks while giving her a little smack on the ass.

"Damn straight you are," he grins. "You deflowered me, L. Made me a man. You'll always have a special place in my heart for that."

"How 'bout I settle for a special place in your pants instead?" Lizzy asks with a devilish smile while reaching lower and wrapping her fingers around him. Dean jumps a little with the unexpected sensation.

"Whoa," Dean smiles. God damn, this chick was made for him. So quickly ready for more, she's more insatiable than him and how that could even be possible, he has no idea. "You're fucking awesome, you know that?"

"Right back at ya', Hot Shot," Lizzy grins out before capturing his mouth with hers, having all intention of starting everything up once again.

"Lizzy!" They hear the voice shout up from the foyer followed by the closing of the front door.

"Shit," Lizzy quietly mumbles into his ear before sitting up on Dean. "Up here, Bobby. Be out in a second."

"Damned animals," they both hear Bobby grumble while climbing the stairs and moving around in the kitchen, getting their ordered out meal ready.

"Well, I guess my master plan to distract you from the anticipation of waiting for Sam is over for now," Lizzy says while groaning her disappointment and standing up off the bed.

"Thanks for doing what you could though," Dean says to her while getting up himself. Putting on more than his leather jacket would probably be a good idea now that Bobby was back. "So strange. You know, I feel… good."

"So I've been told by most men after they've spent some time alone with me," Lizzy jests while pulling on her panties and reaching for a bra.

"No, I mean, I haven't felt this good in so fucking long," he tells her as he mirrors her actions, pulling on his black boxer briefs.

"Four months I'm guessing," Lizzy wonders while pausing to look at him, her face once again showing her sadness for what he's been through.

"Hell of a lot longer than that," he explains but stops there. She doesn't need to know the details just yet. At this point he's not even sure he wants to share any of it with her at all.

"What do you mean?" Lizzy asks with curiosity.

"Nothing," Dean smiles her way, trying to keep her off of the comment he should never have said. Buckling his belt and reaching for his shirt, he throws it over his head on his way out the door. He pauses to kiss Lizzy on the forehead before closing the door behind him to let her finish getting dressed.

He walks down the hall and past the kitchen on his way to the bathroom when he hears Bobby.

"Enjoyin' that walk o' shame of yours?" Bobby asks while giving him a hard time.

Dean steps through the doorway of the bathroom and turns around to face Bobby. "Considering I never thought I'd have a walk of shame ever again… yeah I am. I'm enjoying the hell outta it," Dean grins before closing the door.

* * *

"He's here!" Lizzy yells to Dean and Bobby in the other room. She watches out the kitchen window as the familiar Impala comes to a halt, parking between Bobby's Camaro and Lou's Mustang. "I'm gonna go meet him out there. Talk to him first." She knows if Sam will listen and believe anyone, it'll be her for some reason so she wants to be the one to tell him first, before he just walks into the surprise of a lifetime.

Lizzy pounds her feet quickly down the stairs and flings the front door open. She sprints around the house to the driveway out back, trying to cut Sam off as soon as possible.

"Sam-I-Am!" she shouts as she sees him climb out of the driver's side. Sam's look of concern is planted firmly in place.

"What's going on?" Sam asks with worry as she reaches him and wraps her arms around his middle. "Bobby's here?"

"Hi to you too," she quips before he finally reciprocates the hug. He knows that's what she's fishing for so to move things along he obliges her.

"Hi Lizzy," Sam says impatiently. "Now, tell me what the emergency is."

"Yeah, sure," Lizzy drawls out before taking a seat on the hood of the Impala, patting the space next to her for Sam to sit also. He wrinkles his brow with concern before slowly joining her, not sure he's ready to hear something he needs to sit down for. She reaches over and takes his hand, covering it with both of hers and holding it in her lap. "So, something has happened. Something good, if you ask me. And it's pretty big."

"Ok," Sam answers and waits. And waits. "Spit it out, Lizzy. What is it?"

"It's about Dean. Now I know you had nothing to do with it but…"

Sam looks over to her with eyes wide with the sound of his brother's name. "Fucking tell me what's going on," Sam demands in a louder voice than he intended.

"He's back, Sam. Dean's back."

"What!" Sam questions while taking back his hand and standing up. "What do you mean he's back!"

"I mean he's not in hell. Dean's been pulled out," Lizzy dives right in, needing to get through it as fast as possible or else she knows she'll lose Sam to panic. "We don't know how or why, but he's here, in my apartment and it's actually him…Sam!" Lizzy jumps up as she watches Sam stride quickly to the front door in the panic she wanted to avoid. She begins running to him. "Sam, stop and listen!" She stands in front of him once she catches up and holds her hands out, pleading for him to listen.

Sam stops and stares down at her, fists balled up by his sides and shoulders tense. If it were any other person standing between him and Dean, Sam would have dropped them by now. Lizzy is only lucky because she's Lizzy.

"What did you do!" Sam asks her accusingly.

"Nothing!" Lizzy shouts back, shocked he would think she'd do something so crazy. She never went insane enough try to bring Lou back and she certainly wouldn't do that for Dean either The whole death-isn't-the-end thing the Winchesters were so good with was not appealing to her at all. She was highly against it.

"That's bullshit, Lizzy!" Sam yells at her. "What the fuck did you do!"

"How could you think I would be so stupid, huh!" Lizzy scream at him and shoves him in the chest, pushing him back a few steps. "I didn't even try to bring Lou back! If anyone would be crazy enough to do it, it'd be you!"

"Well, it wasn't!" Sam defensively shouts, his face dark. "I told you I tried but couldn't get anyone to deal with me!"

"Yeah, I know! And that's exactly what I explained to Dean already!" Lizzy yells back before taking a deep breath and composing herself. "Look, we don't know why this happened but it did. Dean's back, he's here."

"Why the fuck would he just be back?" Sam wonders more to himself than to her.

"I don't know, but he's up there waiting for you. Now get your shit together, Sammy-Boy. Relax a second before you go in there."

Sam huffs a few breaths and tries to do just that, but everything in him is on high alert. This isn't right. Why would Dean be back? How is that possible?

"Hey," Lizzy breaks in, her voice quiet and calm as she grabs his hand again. "I'm sorry I pushed you."

"Don't be," Sam says through a clenched jaw, unnerved and itching to run inside but scared to at the same time.

"We're all a bit freaked here, but maybe you need to count your blessings for a second. This could actually be a good thing."

"Doubt it," Sam states while looking up at the house. He starts walking slowly to the front screened in porch, climbing the few steps up and opening the door. Feeling Lizzy close behind him, he finds the courage to keep going, turning the knob on the front door and pushing it open. He steps though the doorway and looks up the staircase in the foyer. At the top he sees his brother standing in the main hallway, waiting for him. Sam inhales sharply at the shock, even though he had fair warning.

"Holy shit," he mutters under his breath.

"Hey ya', Sammy," Dean says quietly, looking down to the bottom floor and trying his best to study and understand the emotions flying across Sam's face. He can only imagine how odd and difficult seeing him again is and if Lizzy and Bobby's reactions are any indication, he needs to let Sam take his time to digest.

Sam feels like his feet are glued to the floor for a moment, the shock of seeing Dean in one piece freezing him in place. He wants to scream, run away, attack all at once but he doesn't do any of those things.

"I know, I look fantastic," Dean jokes at the most inappropriate time, trying to calm both he and Sam's nerves.

After what feels like an eternity of standing there, eyes fixated on his brother, Sam finally regains the ability to move when his brother speaks. Normally he'd attack, knowing this couldn't be his brother, but he trusts Lizzy with his life and if she said it was really him then it was. Plus, only his brother would make a smart ass comment at a time like this. He charges up to the top of the stairs, taking them two and three at a time, and grabs Dean, pulling him into a tight hug. Dean does the same and they stay this way, enjoying the fact they are together again.

Lizzy stands at the bottom of the stairs, quiet and watching. She can't help the smile that spreads across her face with the sight, the beautiful and wonderful sight, of the man she loves more than life itself and the brother she's adopted as her own taking in the actual good fortune they've come across. The past four months were brutal with Sam not being able to have Dean with him. He became cold, distant, and not himself at all. Now she can only pray that things go back, that Sam goes back, to the way he used to be.

"Man, it's good to have you back, Dean," Sam says barely louder than a whisper.

"Damn good to be here," Dean says back while finally pulling away from their hug. He drops his hands on Sam's shoulders and they just stand there. Both grinning like children, Dean once more pulls Sam into him. Normally, the massive chick-flick moment would be way more than Dean's willing to handle, but chick-flick moments are more than ok in certain situations. They both ignore the cheesy, touchy-feely aspect of it and go with the flow. If a guy can come back from hell, he can also hug his brother for longer than usually socially acceptable.

* * *

"Nice shiner, by the way," Sam says from his seat on one end of the couch while taking the bottle Dean holds out for him.

"Yeah, thanks," he returns handing Bobby a bottle too and taking a seat in the middle of the couch, placing himself between Lizzy and his brother. He hands Lizzy a beer of her own and nods in her direction. "I have this one to thank for that." Sam looks over to her and smiles, knowing what happened already.

"What?" she asks defensively. "I'm not just gonna let him walk in here! Dude was probably a shifter or something!"

"You did the right thing," Sam tells her, reaching across Dean to clink his beer bottle with Lizzy's, a cheers for her obviously good judgment. Dean just sits between the two buddy-buddy hunters and eyes them with confusion. They seemed closer than he remembers them being. "So we have no idea what pulled you out?" Sam brings the conversation back to the issue at hand.

"Nope," Dean explains. "The running theory had been that you did it."

"Well, I didn't," Sam honestly says, taking a big swig and preparing to defend himself.

"Yeah, I know," Dean returns.

"You believe me?" Sam is bewildered by the ease with which Dean accepts what he tells him. That was way too simple. "Just like that?"

"Should I not?" Dean asks, giving Sam a questioning face.

"No, you should, it's just… I don't… I expected more of a fight from you."

"Nah, L already vouched for you. Said you tried everything, but nothing worked out." Dean reaches out for Lizzy's hand again and smiles at her, letting her know how much he trusts her.

"Ah, ok. Thanks Lizzy," Sam nods in her direction, still surprised by the lack of a fight.

"Anytime," she winks and takes a sip of beer.

"Look," Bobby breaks in from the recliner, his new favorite spot in Lizzy's apartment. "I'm glad everyone's soul remains unsold and all, but this does raise a sticky question."

"If Sam didn't pull me out, what did?"

"Fucking scary question if you ask me," Sam comments.

"You know, I got another scary question for you," Dean says while turning his attention solely onto Sam. "What the hell have you been up to? Disappearing, not calling Bobby?"

"Yeah, sorry again about that, Bobby," Sam says to the old man, getting a shrug of the shoulders in response. Clearly his all too many apologies are now falling on deaf ears with their frequency. "Once I figured out I couldn't save you, um, I started hunting down Lilith. Trying to get some payback."

"All by yourself," Lizzy comments with distain. At least he's being forthright for once. She wasn't sure Sam would be so open and honest with Dean about what he's been up to.

"Who do you think you are, your old man?" Bobby questions. How reckless can this kid get?

"No, sorry," Sam shakes his head. Who he's apologizing to and what for, he isn't sure. Instead he needed a change of subject. It felt a little too focused on him for his comfort level. "How you feeling?" he asks Dean.

"I'm a little hungry."

"When are you not?" Lizzy jabs him with her elbow.

"When are you not, bottomless pit?" he returns with a smirk.

"Touché," Lizzy brushes off.

"Nah," Sam smiles with their joking before going back to the issue at hand, the one he's the most worried about. "I mean, do you feel like yourself. Anything… different?"

"Like demonic?" Dean wonders with sheer annoyance, knowing what Sam is really asking him. "Bobby tested me to high hell, I'm me."

"Just saying, no demon lets a person loose outta the goodness of their hearts."

"I agree," Bobby adds to Sam's comment. "They've gotta have something nasty planned."

"I feel fine," Dean returns, taking another sip of beer and squeezing a little harder onto Lizzy's hand.

"Sweet. A huge-ass pile of questions with no shovel in sight," Lizzy comments.

"I know a psychic not too far from here," Bobby mentions. "Somethin' this big, maybe the other side is talkin'."

"Yeah, it's worth a shot," Dean agrees as Bobby leaves to make a call.

"Hey," Sam says to Dean, placing his beer on the coffee table and reaching into the neck of his shirt. "You probably want this." Sam pulls the chord of Dean's necklace, the one Sam gave him for Christmas when they were just kids, over his head. He unties the knot in the black chord, pulls a silver ring off of it, reties the knot, and hands it over to its rightful owner.

"Thanks," Dean says as he looks it over in his palm.

"Don't mention it," Sam replies while watching Dean put it over his head, the pendent resting once more in its rightful place.

"What's with the promise ring?" Dean asks. "You go born again while I was away or something?"

Sam furrows his brow at the question, pausing before answering.

"I gave it to him," Lizzy says, trying to help Sam out. "It was Louie's. Her mom gave it to her and I told Sam to hang onto it."

"Yeah? That was nice of you," Dean mentions, though he's surprised to see Sam get so sentimental. Guess Lizzy was right; Lou had meant more to Sam than he'd ever let on.

"It was," Sam agrees as he pockets the ring, making a mental note to somehow find a new chord like the one Dean has. He'd gotten so used to wearing it that he misses it already. "Hey, ah, what was it like?" Sam asks Dean.

"What, hell?"

Sam says nothing, letting his face do the talking. Dean looks over to Lizzy, the lines around her eyes growing deeper with the difficult question he's asked.

"I don't know," Dean lies. "Musta blacked it out. I don't remember a damn thing." He feels Lizzy's death grip on his hand but ignores it. She hates that he's lying like this to Sam but this is not something he's willing to share, not yet at least, and she has to let him decide when to do something as big as that.

"Thank God for that," Sam says.

"Yeah," Dean sighs with a huge gulp of beer as he avoids Lizzy's glares.

* * *

 


	13. September 20th: Fire Eyeland

**_September 20th, 2008_ **

* * *

 

"She's 'bout four hours down the interstate." Bobby tells them as he heads to unlock his car.

"You ok riding by yourself?" Lizzy questions. She wants to stay with Dean clearly, but driving alone for hours at a time can be tedious. If Bobby wanted the company, she'd be happy to join him.

"Yeah, relax, kid. I'm good," he reassures as he looks over to the boys. "Try to keep up." He gets into the old Camaro.

"I assume you'll wanna drive," Sam says as he tosses Dean the keys as they head down the walkway to the Impala. Dean catches them, eyes lighting up, and laughs.

"I almost forgot," he grins out, running a hand along the shining black paint. "Hey sweetheart. You miss me?"

"Holy shit," Lizzy comments with an eye roll as she drops into the backseat.

"What? She was my baby before I ever met you," Dean explains once behind the wheel.

"Just never thought a car would make me jealous," she jokes and swats him on the shoulder from her seat behind him.

"What the hell is that?" Dean asks Sam with anger after spying the new addition to the dash.

"That's an IPod jack," Sam answers with a big smile.

"You were supposed to take care of her, not douche her up."

"Hey!" Lizzy pipes in. "I gave him that."

"Well then you're just as lame as he is," Dean comments.

"Don't be such an ass," Lizzy mutters.

"Dean, I thought it was my car," Sam responds to which he gets a disgusted face in return. Dean starts the car and the music begins.

"Really?" Dean asks after hearing what he feels is awful music. Sam just shrugs as Dean pulls out the IPod and tosses it behind him.

"Watch it, old man," Lizzy warns after ducking from its airborne path before pulling the old shoebox of cassettes from under the passenger seat and handing it over to the front.

"Old man?" Dean asks while taking the box and searching through it.

"Well you are a lot like a grumpy octogenarian who refuses to move into the twenty-first century," Sam adds. "She makes a good point, dude."

"Damn straight," Lizzy smiles out and high-fives Sam.

"Jesus, is this what it's gonna be like now that you two had four months to fucking bond or whatever? Ganging up on me all the damn time?" He pops his Metallica cassette into the stereo, ready to drown the two of them out if possible.

"Probably," Sam and Lizzy tell him in unison and Lizzy laughs while grabbing Sam's shoulder and shaking.

"That's just fucking great," Dean complains as he puts the car in reverse and they set out.

Lizzy decides to keep quiet for most of the ride. She's already had her time with Dean but Sam hasn't yet so she lies across the back seat and closes her eyes for a while, feeling completely content for the first time in so long as she listens to the roar of the Impala, the tape playing in the stereo, and the voices of the Winchester boys. It's comforting to say the very least.

Dean cranes his neck to check on Lizzy and sees that she's asleep, or at least he thinks she's asleep. Now's a good time for some answers.

"There's still one thing that's bothering me."

"Yeah?" Sam asks.

"Yeah. The night that I bit it, or got bit, ha, how'd you make it out? I thought Lilith was gonna kill you."

Lizzy's heart skips a beat. Sam never once talked about that night to her. It was too painful he told her. She's been dying all this time to know exactly what happened, what kind of shit these two got caught up in. She pretends she's asleep and eaves drops, knowing just how wrong it is to do so. Curiosity has always been one of her worst weaknesses.

"Well, she tried," Sam admits. "She couldn't."

"What do you mean she couldn't?"

"She fired this, like, burning light at me and… didn't leave a scratch. Like I was immune or something."

"Immune?" Dean questions with shock, the same shock Lizzy is feeling. What the hell is going on? The demon blood must have something to do with that. How much worse it is going to get for this guy, she thinks. Such a cruel and unjust life he's had to lead. Lizzy' heart aches for Sam.

"Yeah. I don't know who was more surprised, her or me." Sam sighs deeply. "She left pretty fast after that."

"Huh." Dean sits for a second, letting the information seep in. "What about Ruby? Where is she?"

"Dead, or in hell."

Lizzy would never admit it to them, but she loves that Ruby is out of the picture. Even though she's gotten them out of several jams, including the one with Lou, Lizzy was never comfortable at all with them working with her. Something about her seemed off and seriously untrustworthy… you know, besides the being a demon thing.

"So you been using your freaky ESP stuff?" Dean asks.

Sam told Lizzy that his weird vision crap had stopped once they killed Azazel. Did he lie to her about that?

"No," Sam answers stiffly.

"Sure about that? Well, now that you have immunity, or whatever the hell that is, just wondering what other kinda weirdo crap you got going on."

"Nothing, Dean. Look, you didn't want me to go down that road, so I didn't go down that road. It was practically your dying wish."

Good dying wish, Lizzy thinks. Though with how secretive Sam's been, just his words aren't enough to put her completely at ease.

"Well, let's keep it that way."

She knew her life would always be abnormal and quite frankly insane if she got herself too intertwined with these boys. Hell, Bobby warned her several times over and now she sees why. With everything she already knows about them she now realizes just how much more she doesn't know. What has she gotten herself into by sticking by these guys? And how was it that she never even once seriously considered running as far away from them as possible? Maybe she really is insane after all.

* * *

"Hahaha, Bobby!" the woman who answers the door shouts as she launches onto him, picking Bobby up in mid-bear hug. She seems elated to see him, not something most people are when they see Bobby Singer. His presence is usually a bad omen, a warning of what horrible things are to come. All part of the job description, of course.

"You're a sight for sore eyes," Bobby smiles.

"So, these the boys?" she asks, giving them the once over and not yet focusing on Lizzy. Lizzy didn't mind; she understood completely. They were an impressive pair to behold and she had the same reaction when she first met them.

"Sam, Dean, Lizzy; Pamela Barns, best damn psychic in the state." Pamela eyes them over again.

"Hey," Dean says to her.

"Hi," Sam immediately follows.

Then Pamela turns her sights to Lizzy, giving her a big, warm smile. "And you're the one named Lizzy I assume?"

"No, I'm Sam. It's nice to meet you," Lizzy remarks with her toothy grin and holds out her hand for a proper greeting, Pamela taking it up to shake it.

"I like you," she tells Lizzy. "You got a spark about ya'." Once she lets go, her eyes fall back on the boys.

"Mm, mm, mm," Pamela comments before she looks to Bobby, receiving a look of warning in return. She brushes it off and looks back to Dean. "Ha, Dean Winchester. Out of the fire and back into the frying pan huh? Makes you a rare individual."

"If you say so," Dean responds.

"C'mon in," Pamela invites, the group following her into the house. Pamela quickly explains that the best option is to do a séance to get a peek at whatever it is that pulled Dean out of hell. She sets off gathering what she needs. Bending down to grab some items from a cupboard, her pants lower enough for everyone to get a good peak at the 'Jesse Forever' tattoo on her lower back.

"Who's Jesse," Dean boldly asks, earning him a smack to the gut from Lizzy. Pamela is helping them out and she feels that maybe Dean should tone it down a bit. They exchange looks before Pamela answers.

"Haha. Well it wasn't forever," Pamela jests.

"His loss," Dean responds as Pamela walks towards him.

"Might be your gain," Pamela responds, walking a little too close to him before heading off on her task at hand.

"Guess she isn't that good a psychic," Lizzy smirks.

"Psychics can hit on people, L," Dean tells her with a grin. "And apparently, they have good taste."

"But shouldn't they be able to sense when someone is off limits?" Lizzy questions.

"Dude, consider yourself lucky. She'd eat you alive," Sam smiles.

"Oh, she totally would," Lizzy agrees with a quiet laugh.

"Listen to your girlfriend, Dean," Pamela interrupts. "You couldn't handle me, kiddo. Grumpy here on the other hand…" She winks up at Sam and makes him look down at his shoes, uncomfortable with her advances.

"Guess she is good," Lizzy comments with a smirk. "I take it back."

Once everyone is seated around the table they are ready to begin.

"Alright, take each other's hands," Pamela asks. They all do so. "And I need to touch something our mystery monster touched."

"Whoa!" Dean shouts when a hand falls into his lap. "Well, he didn't touch me there."

"Haha, my mistake."

Lizzy laughs aloud and thinks once again that she likes this chick, a lot. Even if she is hitting mercilessly on her man, it doesn't matter. She makes her laugh and feel… welcomed. It's then that it dawns on her. Pamela reminds her of Lou.

Dean, glancing quickly over to Sam, removed the sleeve of his button down and rolls up his t-shirt, revealing the handprint scar on this shoulder.

Sam's heart skips seeing it. It's a terrifying sight, the angry mark that's left on his brother. Whatever this thing is, it's big time.

Pamela places her hand over the print and begins.

"I invoke, conger, and command you. Appear unto me before this circle. I invoke, conger, and command you. Appear unto me before this circle. I invoke, conger, and command you. Appear unto me before this circle."

The television in the room turns itself on and a high pitched sound can be heard. The four hunters in the circle look to each other with alarm.

"I invoke conger and command…Castiel? No, sorry Castiel. I don't scare easy."

"Castile?" Dean questions.

"Its name. It's whispering to me. It's warning me to turn back."

"Holy shit," Lizzy lets out with the familiarity of the name. She looks over to Dean with panic in her eyes, he looks back questioningly. Clearly he didn't remember hearing the similar name once before.

"I conger and command you, show me your face. I conger and command you, show me your face. I conger and command you, show me your face."

The table begins to shake as the high pitched sound grows louder.

"Maybe we should stop," Bobby suggests, fearful of what is coming their way.

"I almost got it," Pamela refuses. "I command you show me your face. Show me your face now!"

The candles in the middle of the circle set ablaze and Pamela screams out. Her eyes are on fire, burning from within their sockets. She screams out again and falls back onto the floor.

"Call 911!" Bobby shouts. Sam stands and runs out of the room for a phone. The three others run to her and drop to the floor around her. Bobby lifts her head as Pamela opens her lids, revealing nothing behind them but empty space.

"I can't see!" she cries out. "I can't see! Oh ,God! Oh, God."

* * *

Bobby and Lizzy followed Pamela to the hospital after the paramedics arrived and stayed in the waiting room through the emergency procedures. Lizzy didn't have to heart to leave. She liked Pamela a lot, however brief their time was together, and wanted to help her, even if all she had to offer was her presence and moral support. She knows it's probably just because she reminded her of Lou so much with her brash behavior and lack of apologies. The chick was badass for sure, and Lizzy liked her style.

Dean and Sam decided to keep away. They felt the need to do the opposite of Lizzy. It was their fault that Pamela was now completely blind. She was just trying to help them and this is what she got for it. It was too difficult to be around her so instead they set out to decide on their next move. Unfortunately they decided to grab something to eat at the wrong diner. The close call with the demons revealed a whole lot to them about just how important all the events happening in their lives were. Right now they were protected or off limits… by what they didn't know but they were safe from demons for the first time. It should have felt better knowing this but instead they all find it daunting. The whole thing is scary has hell.

After their close call, everyone minus Bobby who insisted on sticking around the hospital longer, meet back at the motel they decided on earlier. They needed to figure out what exactly Castiel is… and what he wanted.

"No wonder you picked this place," Lizzy comments once inside their room. She looks up at the ceiling covered in mirrors rolls her eyes.

"Oh, hell yeah," Dean replies with enthusiasm after seeing what she's commenting on. "That's…"

"Sleazy?" she finishes for him, knowing she didn't get it right this time. It was more her own opinion.

"No, I was gonna say awesome," Dean replies, tossing his bag off to the side and dropping the stack of books from Bobby's trunk on the table. "Let's get this research done quickly and take advantage, huh?" He wags his eyebrows at her and wraps his arms around her waist from behind.

"You really think now's the time for that?" Lizzy asks and she closes her own arms over his, though she is tempted. She was always tempted.

"C'mon," Dean says low in her ear, knowing exactly what his tone of voice would do to her. "It could be really fun. I guarantee a good time."

"I don't doubt that," Lizzy smiles, wanting so badly to give in but she holds her ground. "But I can guarantee that fucking right now wouldn't help us get any closer to the thing that yanked you outta the ground."

"L, just take a second and think about it," he brushes his lips against her ear as he talks. "How fucking hot would it be to have you on top of me, riding me, and be able to get an aerial view?"

"Focus," she warns as his lips find her neck, her lids heavy with the feeling. "Sam'll be here any minute."

"So? We'll lock him in the bathroom," Dean shrugs off only semi-humorously, his tongue running down the side of her neck. Lizzy hums with the feeling. "I want to watch you when…"

"Mmm, no," she practically whines while staying on task. "Dean, don't make this harder than it has to be."

"I think it's too late for that," he jokingly remarks while looking down at his own pants. With another kiss to her neck, she pries herself from his grip. "Prude."

"Me!" she asks incredulously. She may not have reach the level Dean had in his past, but she certainly was no saint and he knows that from experience.

"You heard me," he challenges, hoping she'll be motivated to prove him wrong.

"Dean, we gotta figure this shit out," Lizzy reminds him as she picks up a couple of the books and tosses them onto the mustard yellow couch. "Demons are now afraid to go near you and whatever this thing is, it pulled you out of hellfire and burned out poor Pamela's eyes. This thing isn't fucking around."

"I know," Dean complains. Forty years of hell… how bad could it be to take an hour off for some fun? "Just wish I was the one fucking around right now," he mumbles under his breath.

"What was that?" she questions him suspiciously.

"Nothing," Dean brushes off as they hear the door open. Saved by Sammy.

"So at least we have a name now," Sam says as he comes into the room and joins the conversation. "It's a place to start."

"Crap. That's right," Lizzy says. The name rang a bell to her during the séance. Once the commotion started she let it slip her mind but now she remembers. "Did that name seem familiar to anyone else?"

"Not really," Sam answer with concern on his face.

"I got nothing," Dean adds after searching his memory.

"Well, not the whole name," Lizzy explains, "but maybe just the beginning of it. Cas."

Dean's eyes widen with recognition. "Shit."

"Yup," Lizzy responds with a head nod, knowing he's right there with her.

"L, you think…" Dean wonders aloud.

"The dream," she says.

"Oh my God," Dean lets out with sheer awe as it all comes back to him. He sits down on the edge of the bed. "That's what dad tried to warn me about."

"Wait, are you talking about that dream you had, like, months before… the one you both had?" Sam's focus keeps switching between the two of them, waiting impatiently for answers.

"Yeah," Lizzy confirms. "John said to wait for Cas before he got cut off. Now it makes sense."

"He was telling me to hold out for it, so it would… save me?" Dean questions as he looks up to Sam. "Did dad try to tell me I was gonna get out? Did he know?"

Sam says nothing at first, too blown away by everything. "What the fuck is going on here?"

"Wish I knew, Sammy." Dean washes a hand down his face with the frustration of everything around him. Nothing makes sense, not one thing.

* * *

 


	14. September 20th-21st: Leia to His Luke

**_September 20th, 2008 - September 21, 2008_ **

* * *

 

A few hours of reading and Sam sees the perfect opportunity. Still in the motel room, Dean and Lizzy didn't make it too far before they let sleep win over. The decision to open up the pull out couch to make themselves more comfortable most likely didn't help. Or maybe it was just the fact that they hadn't slept in about two days. They're both propped up into a seated position against the back of the couch, shoulders against each other, books open in their laps. While asleep Dean had, out of instinct, draped an arm across Lizzy's waist and she had rested her head on his shoulder. He was being over protective even while passed out. It's something he used to do to Sam when they were children and they fell asleep watching TV while their dad was gone for days.

Sam quietly stands, searches Dean's jacket pockets for the car keys, and makes his way out the door once he has them. He takes off in the Impala without letting anyone know he's gone.

The two tired hunters remain undisturbed but not for long. Soon enough the same high pitched noise Dean heard once before fills the room and the loud static of both the TV and clock radio turning itself on wakes them both up. After rubbing his eyes Dean quickly puts together what's happening.

"Shit," he worries while climbing to the bedside to grab his shotgun and stand up.

"What's going on!" Lizzy asks over the noise with panic.

"Stay there," he instructs while making his way to the door, waiting for whatever it is that's about to come through it. On his way he takes a second to register that Sam's gone. Focusing on one thing at a time, he returns his sights to the door. The mysterious sound grows in volume to painful levels. Lizzy covers over her ears to keep it out as much as possible.

"What the fuck?" she shouts over the noise as Dean drops his shotgun and covers his own ears. The ache grows as the volume does and they both yell out with the assault.

Suddenly the windows give out, blowing into the hotel room and covering it with shards of glass. Lizzy sits on the pull out mattress, head tucked between her knees as the sound gets even louder. Dean looks up at the mirrored ceiling, watching it crack under the pressure of the sound waves. The mirror above Lizzy begins to shatter and Dean launches to his feet, running and bowling her over just in time. The glass showers her previous spot on the bed with sharp shards as the two hit the flood together. Dean covers his body over hers to keep her safe when the door flies open.

"Dean!" Bobby shouts while running over to the two of them huddled on the floor. "Lizzy! Dean! Get up!" Bobby grabs each one by the arm and pulls, getting them on their feet and out the door. As soon as all three are safely outside the room, the sound immediately stops.

They stand where they are, looking back into the now destroyed room and breathing heavily with the commotion.

"The fuck was that!" Lizzy shouts after a period of silence, her hearing still impaired by the offending noise.

"I'm guessing Castiel," Dean responds and the hunters once again grow quiet.

"I think we need to gather out shit and haul ass outta here pronto," Bobby finally says.

* * *

"How you doin' kid?" Bobby asks while driving his Camaro away from their now destroyed motel.

"Aside from the church bells ringing in my head, peachy," Dean responds with irritation.

"How 'bout you, Lizzy?" Bobby asks and waits. He gets no answer and both he and Dean look back to her in the back seat.

"Huh?" she questions, clearly not having heard what she'd been asked. "I can't really hear too well right now. It's like the time I went to a Pearl Jam concert when I was high school and sat right next to the wall of speakers. Ha, that show was awesome! Totally worth it."

Dean smiles with her comment while dialing Sam's number.

"Hey," Sam answers.

"What are you doing?" Dean asks sternly.

"Couldn't sleep. Went to get a burger," Sam explains. Since when does Sam eat burgers?

"In  _my_  car?"

"Force of habit, sorry. What are you doing up?"

"Bobby's back. We're all going to grab a beer," Dean tells him, holding a finger up to Bobby as he was about to protest to his lies.

"Alright, well, ah, spill some for me, huh?"

"Done. I'll catch you later." Dean hangs up.

"And why did you just lie to Sam like that?" Lizzy asks, her forearms resting on the front bench seat and she'd leaning forward so that she can hear the conversations up front.

"'Cause he'd just try to stop us," Dean answers simply.

"From what?" Bobby questions.

"Summoning this thing," Dean says. "It's time we face it head on."

"You can't be serious," Bobby replies.

"As a heart attack. It's high noon baby."

"Ah, but we don't know what  _it_ is," Lizzy reminds Dean.

"She's right,' Bobby concurs. "It could be a demon, it could be anything."

"So we gotta be ready for anything," Dean brushes off as he reaches back for the knife at his waist. "We got the big time magic knife. You've got an arsenal in the trunk."

"This is a bad idea," Bobby tells him.

"Yeah, I couldn't agree more but what other choice do we have?" Dean answers. He surely doesn't see one.

Lizzy stays quiet for a moment, contemplating both sides of the argument.

"We could choose life."

"Bobby whatever this is, whatever it wants, it's after me. That much we know, right? Well, I got no place to hide. I either can get caught with my pants down again or we could make our stand."

"Dean's right," Lizzy finally adds. "This thing is just gonna keep coming after him, and clearly it doesn't matter who he's with either. We're all in danger right now."

"Thank you," Dean says, happy to have one of them on his side.

"I don't know…" Bobby starts but is cut off by Dean.

"Lizzy could have gotten seriously hurt back there. This thing, whatever the fuck it is, isn't playing nice if you ask me. I won't have any of you getting hurt because of something after my ass."

Bobby knows that the point Dean makes is a valid one. They have to do this, but it's scary as hell and highly dangerous. "Dean, we could use Sam for this."

"Nah, he's better off where he is," Dean says before turning around to glance at Lizzy briefly. "Bobby, the next motel you see, stop in. L, we can drop you off there and we'll come back for you when we're done."

"What!" Lizzy sits up straight with what he says to her. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"No, I'm not…" Dean starts but it completely cut off by the irate woman.

"Are we still here? Are we still at this same place as we were before everything?"

"Lizzy, you don't need to…" Bobby begins but once again she cuts them off.

"I am not some little girl, don't know if you've noticed!" Lizzy shouts, her old anger problem rearing its ugly head.

"I sure noticed," Dean slickly smiles her way.

"Fucking stop that!" she yells to him, the comment making her anger that much worse. "I am in this, ok? Seems like you've both forgotten, but I kinda kick ass at times like this. You said you could use Sam, well you've got me instead." Neither says a word. Not just because she's right but because they're afraid to piss her off any more.

"This macho bullshit better end fucking fast!" She turns her full focus towards Dean. "And you are not leaving me behind, not again," she says while pointing at him accusingly. "There's no fucking way I am letting you face the big bad wolf without me again. I told you, if we're doing this thing together then we're fully doing this. You may not like it, but you have to accept it!"

"Jesus, L! Calm down," Dean says while pausing to think it over. "Fine."

"Thank you!" Lizzy says exasperated.

"What! You outta yer mind?" Bobby questions. How many times did he have to tell this boy that a good kid like Lizzy didn't need his crap.

"Dude, she's right," Dean explains. "I kept her out of my life for her own safety before and look what happened. She's still here, still by my side no matter what I do." He then turns his attention back to her. "But if things start going wrong I want you outta there and fast."

"Ok," she agrees.

"I mean it, L! You cut and run like you just banged a fat chick in a dive bar bathroom, you hear me?"

"Loud and clear," she says calmly while kissing him on the cheek and feeling proud of herself for getting through to him finally.

* * *

Hours and several cans of spray paint later, the old warehouse they found is about as prepared as it will be.

"That's a hell of an art project you two got going there," Dean comments while setting out all the weapons they have.

"It's pretty awesome," Lizzy says as she finishes up the symbol she's currently working on.

"Traps and talisman's from every faith on the globe." Bobby joins Dean at the table, looking its contents over. "How you doin'?"

"Stakes, iron, silver, salt, the knife. I mean we're pretty much set to catch and kill anything I've ever heard of."

"This is still a bad idea," Bobby warns.

"Yeah Bobby, I heard you the first ten times," Dean says, annoyance fully apparent. Lizzy walks over to Bobby and drops a supportive hand on his shoulder.

"We're as ready as we'll ever be." She tries to reassure him, but even to her own ears the words sound flimsy. They're all afraid.

"What do you say we ring the dinner bell?" Dean suggests as Bobby heads to the other table prepared for the summoning. He sets to work carefully performing the spell and once it's done they wait. And wait. And wait.

"Huh," Lizzy comments. "Thought that would've worked a little faster."

"Me too," Bobby agrees wholeheartedly. Usually these things don't take long at all to produce results.

The three continue to wait, taking seats on the tables and fiddling with their weapons. It's starting to look after about a half hour of waiting that the spell was a no go.

"You sure you did the ritual right?" Dean questions Bobby with impatience, earning him a stern look in return. "Sorry. Touchy-touchy, huh?"

Lizzy smacks his arm from her seat next to him. "Don't be so fucking rude."

"Whatever, mom," Dean retorts.

Lizzy bugs her eyes out at his comment and opens her mouth to let him know just how rude he really is when the tin roof panels begin to go crazy, lifting and slamming back down loudly. They all stand with the sudden commotion.

"Wishful thinking, but maybe it's just the wind," Dean says, knowing he's wrong. The large, industrial light bulbs begin bursting as the barricaded doors open up on their own, revealing a dark-haired man in a trench coat. He calmly walks in their direction as the bulbs continue bursting all around them, sparks flying through the darkness.

Once all the lights are out, Bobby and Dean begin opening fire on the advancing man, rock salt hitting him but not affecting him in the least. He continues calmly making his way to the hunters. Lizzy walks over to the table, picking up Ruby's knife and hands it over to Dean.

"Who are you?" Dean asks as the man stops walking once he's directly in front of him.

"I'm the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition," the mysterious man says, his tone flat and informative.

"Yeah, thanks for that," Dean says before stabbing the knife hard into the man's chest, burying it deep. Dean's expression turns to true fear as the knife has no effect at all. Instead, the mystery man just smiles very slightly while grabbing the handle and pulling it out, dropping it onto the ground once he does.

Bobby winds up to take a swing with his crowbar from behind the unknown man but before he can follow through, it grabs hold of the weapon and presses two fingers to Bobby's forehead. Eyes rolling back, Bobby collapses on the floor unconscious as Dean and Lizzy stand next to each other watching in horror. Fear for Bobby's life trumps her absolute terror of the unknown before them and Lizzy runs to Bobby on the floor. Yes, she leaves herself wide open and vulnerable but she doesn't care. She needs to make sure he's still alive and she's confident Dean has her back.

"We need to talk, Dean. Alone," the man tells him to explain why Bobby is unconscious and instantly Dean's feet are in motion. He runs to Lizzy, standing in front of her and using himself as a barrier. He's scared she'll end up like Bobby if he doesn't protect her.

"Don't worry. Lizzy is safe. She is allowed to hear this."

Lizzy looks up at Dean, panic written on her expression. How did it know who  _she_  was? "Why do you know my name! And why just me!" she asks abruptly.

"He isn't… special. You are," the man says as he begins walking around the room. Dean drops to the floor with Lizzy to check Bobby.

"What does that mean?" Dean questions from his lowered spot, concerned about the meaning behind the man's words. "Special how?"

"All things in their own time," is the simple and lone explanation they're given. "You're friend's alive."

"Who are you?" Dean asks while standing up.

"Castile."

"I figured that much. I mean what are you?"

"I'm an angel of the Lord."

The room grows deathly quiet with the answer. Lizzy and Dean share glances, unsure of what to make of the whole thing. Dean knows one thing for sure. Angels aren't real and this thing is full of shit.

"Get the hell outta here. There's no such thing."

"This is your problem Dean," Castiel explains. "You have no faith."

Light flashes brightly throughout the warehouse, causing the hunters to squint with the brightness. Every flash reveals the shadow of two dark, intimidating wings as they rise high from Castiel's back. The sight leaves Lizzy speechless and she grasps Bobby's hand tightly as her fear starts taking complete control.

"Oh my God," Lizzy whispers out at the sight before her.

"Exactly," Castiel informs her.

"Some angel you are," Dean boldly asserts, not letting the impressive being in front of him intimidate him. "You burned that poor woman's eyes."

"I warned her not to spy on my true form. It can be overwhelming to humans, like my real voice. But you already knew that."

"That was you back there?" Lizzy asks.

"Yes."

"The gas station too? That was you  _talking_?" Dean wonders as Castiel nods his head in confirmation. "Buddy, next time lower the volume."

"It was my mistake. Certain people, special people, can perceive my true visage. I thought you would be one of them, possibly Lizzy too. I was wrong."

"And what visage are you in now, huh?" Dean challenges. "What, holy tax accountant?"

"This," Castiel starts while looking over his own current form. "This is a vessel."

"You're possessing some poor bastard?" Dean asks disbelieving.

"He's a devout man. He actually prayed for this."

"Glad I stopped praying a long ass time ago, then," Lizzy comments.

Angels possessing humans? This was all too much for both hunters to handle. Lizzy gets up from her place on the floor and stands next to Dean, grabbing onto the cuff of his jacket sleeve, desperate for contact with him at such an overwhelming time.

"Look pal," Dean starts. "I'm not buying what you're selling so who are you really?"

Castiel looks at him with a slightly confused expression. "I told you."

"Right. And why would an angel rescue me from hell?"

"Good things do happen, Dean. I think you know that." Castiel nods his head to Lizzy, referring to her as proof that good things occur. Dean takes her hand in his and holds tight, not liking how involved she seems to be in this discussion.

"Not usually in my experience," Dean informs him while lifting their fused hands quickly. "Always considered this sheer dumb luck."

"Finding Elizabeth is not, as you call it, dumb luck. Not in the very least," Castiel says as he steps closer to Dean, narrowing his eyes and tilting his head to the side as he studies Dean's face. "What's the matter? You don't think you deserve to be saved."

"Why'd you do it?" Dean quickly asks, uncomfortable with how right Castiel was. He really didn't think he deserved this.

"Because God commanded it," Castiel says. Lizzy inhales sharply with his words and Dean jumps slightly, his hand grasping onto Lizzy's way too tightly. He can feel his hand shaking though he isn't sure if it's coming from him or her… or both. "Because we have work for you. Both of you."

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. Please feel free to leave comments about my work. I've found that you all are very helpful people! From words of praise or encouragement, constructive criticism, cannon corrections, and even letting me know you hate my work has been shockingly helpful in improving my work. That and I love responding to every comment I get. Thanks!


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